Til The End
by Thalia Kendall
Summary: DONE Cho Chang's life after Cedric...Prefect Meetings, Quidditch, and later on, the harsh real world. Hearts will break, but hope will prevail in the end, and heal the wounds.
1. Old Friends and New

**NOTES**: 

            This fic is based on a challenge from the lovely Lyta Padfoot: 

_Write a romance between Roger Davies and Cho Chang. Include Ravenclaw student Miss Fawcett, sugar quills, a scarf getting caught on something, and the phrase "This is me we're talking about."_

In addition, the premise comes from a cookie written by the wonderful Mirth at FAP...a  "sequel", perhaps. 

Oh, and of course, post-paper-typing exhaustion sitting in bed with a laptop listening to "I Wanna Be There" by Blessid Union of Souls...

**DEDICATION:**

            This chapter is dedicated to the marvelous, wonderful Chained Dove, my beta-editor, co-author, fellow shipper of the HMS Bronze Snitch on which this fic is partially based, and more importantly, friend! Go you!! W00t! w00t!!

**DISCLAIMER:**

If I owned them, you would be unhappy. Roger and the other Quidditch hotties would be made to wear leather tighter than the security at Azkaban. And I wouldn't even let you people watch. _BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!_

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~ 'Til the End ~

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_"You wouldn't know that I was there,_

_Because I have been there all the time,_

_And if I had my way I'd hold you in my arms_

_And leave this madness all behind,_

_'Cause you've got so much to give, but you throw it all away_

_And all you've got to show for who you are is pain, _

_And I've got so much to give, if you'd only let me in,_

_I'm gonna take the time to show you I'm a friend,_

_And you'll believe in love again..."_

_I wanna be there in the pouring rain,_

_I wanna be there when you call my name, _

_I'm gonna light your fire, gonna feel your flame,_

_I wanna be there when you go insane,_

_I wanna be there when I'm outta town,_

_And when your whole damn world is crashing down,_

_I'm gonna be your lover, gonna be your friend_

_I wanna be there 'til the end."_

_~ "I Wanna Be There" by Blessid Union of Souls ~_

*          *          *

Owl from R. Davies to C. Chang, 12 July 

_Cho,_

_It's been a fortnight starting here, and... Well, all I can say is that it's quite interesting. All of us who have just started out are going through training. Hard work, but very interesting. We have two superiors, one of whom is sensible, canny and very aware of what is going on. The other...I will refrain from commenting and blistering your virgin ears._

_The initial training is almost like a cross of Charms, Defense and physical training. Quite rigorous, but from what I've heard, this is also the process by which they later assign us to different posts and jobs. A process of elimination, almost. Now, more than ever, I thank goodness for Quidditch, I don't know what I would do had I not been accustomed to long games and early-morning practices! As it is, after a long day, I'm fagged out and find myself ravenously devouring all the food during dinnertime, despite the fact that it tastes horrible due to my lack of cooking skills. Oh, but I miss Hogwarts feasts!_

_Speaking of Hogwarts, do keep me informed of what's going on there, all right? At least tell me if the Ravenclaw team is up to scratch, Captain Chang. Please keep in touch; we've known each other for too long to never speak to each other again. I might even see you again someday; I certainly hope so. And I hope that when (not IF, WHEN) I do, you shall be smiling again. _

_If you need anything, anything at all, please let me know. I'm there for you. Always. I promise._

_Yours,_

_Roger_

*          *          *__

_Owl from C. Chang to R. Davies, 22 July_

_Roger,_

_            Thanks for the owl. Good luck with your training, but I know that you will do well. As for your cooking skills, or lack thereof, perhaps you should get a book on cooking charms sometime? No matter, my mother and I were making dumplings today, and I've enclosed three dozen in the box. A simple warming charm should do the trick, and they will be ready to eat. Consider it a birthday present of sorts. _

_            I'm doing better. It's hard. I don't think that I will ever be quite the same, but I will be fine. Thank you for your concern. I usually spend my time doing my summer homework. It keeps me busy, at least, and gives me a purpose. I've decided to take Advanced Transfiguration and Defense Against the Dark Arts next term. I will not have a lot of spare time, what with two Advanced classes, Quidditch and Prefect duties, but that does not matter. I'll manage. After all, both you and... and Cedric managed it. _

_            I miss him a lot. It hurts to lose your best friend, it truly does. Sometimes I wish I could use a time-turner and go back to when things were simple and everyone was happy and carefree. But then, I know that what happens in life cannot be changed, and, well... at least he... he didn't suffer._

_            My father has gone back to China for the summer. He came home from work one day, fuming. Saying that Fudge was... well, several very derogatory things in Chinese which I won't blister your virgin ears with. He's gone to China to see if the Ministry there might be prevailed to send over their top Shen-Wu Mages to aid the cause. I hope he will succeed. I remember when I was little, I used to want to be a Mage, like my grandmother. Learning how to use ancient Chinese martial arts and spells to fight Dark wizards seemed so fascinating and "cool". But when I told my grandmother, she simply laughed and told me that I was too cheerful and fidgety to go into something like that. Well, I wonder what she would say if I approached her with that same  proposition now._

_            Well, besides that, not much is going on around here. Hope to hear from you soon!_

_Yours,_

_Cho_

*          *          *

            Roger Davies smiled as the honey-brown barn owl flew out of his window with his reply to Cho's letter. How sweet of her, to not only remember his birthday, but to send him dumplings! He'd tried them once, when Cho's mother had sent her a delicious batch last year when she was in the middle of taking her O.W.L.s and she had shared them with him and several other friends. The general consensus afterwards was that the house-elves should learn how to cook them as soon as possible, and Roger remembered Sarah Fawcett attempting to make them after asking Cho for the recipe, but unable to get the dough "just right". The girl had at last returned to the Ravenclaw common room late in the evening, disgruntled, her black hair and robes covered with flour, asking Cho if next time, her mother could send her some food that was easier to make? How Cho had chuckled, sweet laughter like the tinkling of crystal wind chimes rising from her lips. 

            He glanced at his wristwatch. It was nearly time for him to get to work. There would be more training today, concentrating on several of the more hideous disfigurement hexes that the Death Eaters were so fond of. The work would be grueling, and he knew that by the end of the day, he would be drained, and quite possibly recovering from several curses thrown at him all at once. This was a dangerous business, after all, and he knew that there were ones who thought him daft to become an Auror when he could have made more money and certainly been more carefree joining a professional Quidditch team. Was it not just the other day when he had met Cassius Horton, former Chaser on the Ravenclaw team under him, who had graduated the same year as himself and gone on to play as a reserve for the Appleby Arrows? Cassius had been astonished when Roger had informed him that he was training to be an Auror.

            "An _Auror? Davies, you should play Quidditch instead. Worst that could happen would be a few bludgers to the head here and there, but you could be tortured on a daily basis if you become an Auror. Besides, if you play Quidditch, you'd be doing something you love, making a decent living for yourself, and besides," here Cassius grinned, "the reserve Seeker on my team is quite attractive. Name of Eve Richardson. Used to be in Slytherin, but she's not bad. Not quite in the same class as that French veela girl you took to the Yule Ball last year, but quite the looker nevertheless: dark blonde hair, pale blue eyes, great figure. You should join, I'm sure you would enjoy yourself. Why did you decide to become an __Auror, of all things?"_

            Roger had shrugged, finished his drink, and bid farewell to Cassius. The bloke was clever, and meant well, but he sometimes just did not _understand. Why become an Auror?_

            Well, among other things, he would be bringing to vindictive justice the heartless evildoers who had made his sweet, lovable Seeker cry.

            With that thought in mind, he Disapparated away to work. 

*          *          *

            Cho Chang went to Diagon Alley on a day in late August in the company of a deceptively mild-looking, snowy-haired little old Chinese woman dressed in Chinese robes of midnight blue with cloth buttons. Her parents had been busy that day, and had asked that Cho bring her grandmother with her while she did her school shopping, saying that it would be nice for the old lady to see Diagon Alley. Cho was not fooled. The small golden dragon embroidered on her grandmother's robe, with the crossed sword and wand underneath it, marked Madame Sai-Yu Chang as a Shen-Wu Mage, and her parents' insistence that she bring her grandmother with her was as much for her own protection as an opportunity for grandmother to tour the place. The old woman was only about five feet tall, and held a look of wise, calm serenity on her finely wrinkled face. But the hand resting on Cho's arm was amazingly strong, fast, and accurate. The reflexes were still sharp. Cho wondered what her teammates would think if she told them that her grandmother's reflexes in both magical and Muggle dueling were probably as fast as her own in Quidditch. 

            Together, they went to Flourish and Blotts, then to Madame Malkin's for a new cloak for the winter. After that, they headed to the Apothecary for potions supplies. 

            "Ten hummingbird feathers, twelve ounces of powdered moonstone, one bundle of dried gentian roots, six ounces of crushed barnacle shells, and two scoops of clownfish scales." Cho handed the list to the witch who worked there, then counted out her money for the supplies. Fifteen minutes later, she and her grandmother were walking into the Leaky Cauldron for lunch. Just as they walked in, the bell on the door jingled, signaling the arrival of someone else. 

            "Cho?" she heard a vaguely familiar female voice call out. Turning around, she came face-to-face with a tall girl with dark blonde hair. Cho recognized her as Charisse Weston, a fellow Ravenclaw Prefect a year older than herself. She was Head Girl this year, a good student, particularly in potions, but was something of an introvert and a loner, and Cho did not know her very well. 

            "Hello, Charisse, isn't it? How are you?" Cho asked politely. The other girl gave her a wan smile.

            "All right, thank you. So, er, how was your summer?" Charisse tried to make casual conversation. Cho smiled.

            "It was all right, I spent most of my time practicing flying and doing homework for Advanced Transfiguration. You?"

            Charisse bit her lip, seeming unsure of how to answer. A very unusual thing for a Ravenclaw. Then, she brightened up, "My brother will be starting at Hogwarts this year. His name is Anthony."

            "Oh? That's wonderful! Your parents must be very proud of him!"

            Charisse winced almost imperceptibly, "Y-yes, well, my father is... my mother died several years ago... but yes, my father is at Ollivander's right now, buying him a wand." 

            "That's nice. Let's hope that he's sorted into Ravenclaw!"

            Charisse nodded, "Yes, let's hope." Something in the tone of her voice seemed to convey a mixture of both fervent hope and desolate hopelessness. "Well, I'm just waiting for them, they're supposed to meet me here in half an hour."

            Cho nodded, "All right, you can sit with us in the meantime." 

            Charisse gave a start, "Oh! How rude of me." She proffered a hand to Cho's grandmother, "How do you do, my name is Charisse Weston."

            Madame Sai-Yu Chang raised an eyebrow quizzically at her granddaughter, who promptly translated, informing her grandmother that Charisse was a seventh year from Ravenclaw House, who was the Head Girl this year. The old lady nodded, then put her left hand, palm downwards, over her closed right fist, inclining her head in a traditional Chinese greeting. Charisse gave a start, seeing the small golden dragon on the old lady's robes. "Cho, your grandmother is a _Shen-Wu Mage?!"_

            "Yes," Cho answered, "She's just visiting from China..."

            "That's _fascinating! What's her specialty? Armed, hand-to-hand, or hidden weapons?" Cho blinked in surprise. Certainly no one she knew of, even the students in Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts, knew so much about foreign Dark Wizard fighters and what they did. Nevertheless, she relayed the translated question to her grandmother, and soon, the three were having a conversation consisting of Charisse asking interested questions, Cho's grandmother answering, and Cho translating for the two of them. _

            "Charisse Regina Weston!" A cold, imperious-sounding man's voice reached their ears. Charisse paled slightly, and abruptly stopped talking, retreating back into the shy shell that she'd had before getting into the Mage conversation. She hurriedly stood up.

            Cho watched as a tall, black-haired man with a pair of flashing dark eyes, dressed in sweeping, expensive-looking robes of silver-trimmed black satin strode towards them, a dark-haired, slightly sullen-looking boy at his heels. Charisse replied softly, "Father, Anthony."

            Mr. Weston's eyes swept over Cho rather haughtily. Cho, unfazed, matched his stare. Charisse hurriedly made introductions, "Father, this is Cho Chang, she's a 6th year Ravenclaw Prefect at Hogwarts, and this is her grandmother, Madame Sai-Yu Chang." At Charisse's last words, Mr. Weston's eyes widened, and he coughed before forcing a smile upon his face, a smile that did not reach his eyes, and held out a hand.

            Cho looked at the man strangely, then turned to her grandmother to translate and make her introductions. To her surprise, the benevolent look had vanished from the old lady's face, replaced by a grim one, from the hardness in her narrowed eyes to the gray eyebrows quirked in an unspoken challenge. "Xiao Li Cang Dao." Cho heard her grandmother mutter under her breath. _A smile that hides a knife. She did not greet Mr. Weston, but rather gave him a cold nod and looked away, her wrinkled lip curled. Charisse looked distinctly uncomfortable. Finally, Mr. Weston broke the silence._

            "Come, Charisse, Anthony. We will leave now." He said in his polished, icy voice. Charisse gave Cho an awkward wave, and followed her father and brother out of the Leaky Cauldron. 

            Cho turned back to her grandmother, "Is everything all right, grandmother?" she asked in Chinese. The old woman nodded towards the door that Charisse and her family had just left through.

            "He is a bad man. The girl is most unfortunate." 

Cho asked for an explanation, but her grandmother simply pressed her lips together and refused to say anything more on that matter.

_*          *          *_

_Owl from R. Davies to C. Chang 25 August_

_Cho,_

_Well, that was nice of you to make friends with Charisse, she seems like she doesn't have many people to talk to. That incident with your grandmother and her father seemed rather strange, though. I know that her family is rather wealthy, and her father... he was in school the same time as my parents... my mother recalls him as being a Slytherin and cronies with Severus Snape... perhaps he's a rather unpleasant individual. _

_Well, this is probably the last letter that will get to you before you go to Hogwarts. Training continues, and I've been termed a lucky bloke by several others because of the dumplings that I (gloatingly, I freely admit) brought to lunch for a week. No less than three people have asked that I owl you with their gratitude, and hopes that there will be more. Never mind that I had informed them that you would be busy with school, etc. and were not their personal chef. But consider yourself thanked profusely, at any rate._

_            I'm very glad to hear that your father is going to try to bring in Mages from China, they could significantly help with the cause. I hope that, when the time comes, I will be able to contribute as well. I certainly hope so! I've been working hard; Auror Steele, who is training me, seems to be satisfied with my progress. We learn more every day about this occupation, and the more I learn, the more I understand just what I and the others will be up against. It won't be easy, but someone needs to do it._

_            Well, this is probably the last owl before you start sixth year. Good luck, and as always, remember that I'll be here if you ever need to talk to someone._

_Yours,_

_Roger_

_*          *          *_

            Cho watched with interest as Professor McGonagall led the row of wide-eyed First Years into the Great Hall. Several of them looked somewhat familiar, probably siblings of people she'd seen before. She wondered how many new Ravenclaws there would be this year. 

            Next to her, Charisse sat, her hands tensely folded in her lap, watching the ceremony anxiously. Her unreadable pale blue eyes were fixed upon her brother, standing among the other first years.

            "Abbott, Lucy!" A round-faced, blonde-pigtailed girl who looked almost identical to how her sister had looked at her age, got up onto the stool, and was sorted almost immediately into Hufflepuff. Cho gave a sad little smile. The faces of the returning Hufflepuffs all held a hint of sadness. Cedric was missed. 

            "Arlington, Michael!"

"Gryffindor!" Cho saw Harry Potter and his friends cheer with the rest of the Gryffindors as the boy walked to the table. She smiled at them.

            "Bole, Patrick!"

"Slytherin!" Cho grimaced. Must be the younger brother of  the same Slytherin Beater who had landed her in the hospital her first year playing as a Seeker. 

            "Brown, Jade!" became another Gryffindor, and then "Calvert, Fiona!" and "Carstairs, Wallace!" were both made Ravenclaws, and Cho cheered along with the rest of the table as the two of them made their way over, sitting down in between Orla Quirke and Su Li. 

            "Chilton, Darius!" was made a Slytherin, "Dawson, Brian!" a Gryffindor, and "Doyle, Hope!" a Hufflepuff. "Entwhistle, Adeline!" was sorted into Ravenclaw amid cheers from her brother Kevin, "Everett, Mark!" went to Hufflepuff, and "Fenton, Morris!" to Slytherin. "Forrest, Ophelia!" became a Hufflepuff, as did "Green, Matthew!". "Harcourt, Leonard!", "Hill, Philip!" and "Jordan, Rae!" all became Gryffindors, and Cho saw the outrageous Quidditch commentator give a whoop and clap his sister on the back. The Sorting continued. "Markham, Una!", "Martinez, Alberto!", "Rosenberg, Jacob!" and "Sato, Yumiko!" all became Ravenclaws. "Sheridan, Emily!" became a Gryffindor, "Tanner, Rachel!" a Hufflepuff, and "Thurston, Alice!" a Slytherin. "Vilensky, Marina!" was sorted into Ravenclaw, and then, Professor McGonagall called out "Weston, Anthony!" and Charisse stiffened next to Cho.

            The dark-haired boy walked up to the stool slowly, and Professor McGonagall clapped the Sorting Hat upon his head. Fifteen seconds passed, then thirty, then forty-five. Cho saw Charisse cross her fingers. Finally, the hat shouted out for all present to hear, "SLYTHERIN!"

            Charisse's face fell. "Wilson, Francis!" got sorted into Ravenclaw, and the Feast began. Cho ate heartily, hungry after her train ride. Una Markham, a Muggleborn First-Year, sat on her other side and started to ask her questions about classes, points, and whether or not they _really had Quidditch games here. Cho answered in the affirmative to the last question, and told the girl that she was Quidditch captain for their house team. This, of course, was heard by many others at the table, both new and old students, and Cho found herself barraged with questions on all sides._

            By the time she had finished answering the questions, dinner was over, and it was time for the Prefects to lead everyone back to the Common Room. Cho saw with approval Padma Patil and Terry Boot, the new fifth year Prefects, rise to the occasion and usher everyone into a neat line behind them. Zachary Turpin, a seventh year Prefect and a Chaser on the house team, fell into step next to Cho at the end of the line, chatting with her all the while about Quidditch strategies. Stefan Ackerley, the male sixth year Prefect, walked alongside the line with the now-dispirited Charisse, making sure that there were no stragglers. 

            Soon, they reached a picture of a beautiful dark-haired woman holding a pomegranate in one hand. Padma turned to face the First-years and spoke, "This is Proserpine, she is the guardian of Ravenclaw Tower. To get in, you must say the password." She turned back to the painting and said clearly, "_Pax Vobiscum." Proserpine nodded, and the portrait opened like a door. The Ravenclaws walked in._

            After getting everyone settled in, Cho posted a notice on the bulletin board, _"There is a vacant Beater and Chaser position open on our House's Quidditch Team. Anyone second year or above interested in trying out should meet at  the pitch  on Tuesday, 10 September at 7:30 in the evening. Be prompt, wear comfortable clothing and bring a broomstick if you have one. Any questions and concerns should be taken to C. Chang, Captain." _

            By the time all questions and concerns had been answered, it was quite late, and most people had gone to bed. Cho was about to head to her dormitory herself when she saw Charisse, sitting by herself by a window, staring outside. She walked over.

            "Are you going to bed soon?" Charisse turned around slowly, and Cho was astonished to see tears running down the older girl's face.

*          *          *

_Owl from C. Chang to R. Davies, 2 September_

_Roger,_

_            NOW I know what is the case with Charisse! It turns out that her family is quite the pureblooded, old-and-established wizarding family. Also, everyone in the past six generations have been in Slytherin. Charisse, needless to say, is not. Her father was furious when she got sorted into Ravenclaw, and she has a hard time in her family. She also said, somewhat sadly and fearfully, that if she were to live her life as she wanted to live it, she would pay dearly. I tried to have her explain what she meant, but she said that she couldn't burden me with it!_

_            Her brother got Sorted into Slytherin. She said that her father would be proud, but she felt more alone than ever. Poor girl, I think that I'll try to become good friends with her. I thought that I had a hard time of it, losing a best friend and all, but in some ways, Charisse has it even worse. At least I have friends like you, and a family that loves me._

_            On another note, many people seem to be interested in the vacant positions for Quidditch. I've posted a note on the Bulletin telling everyone who is interested to come to the first practice on the tenth to try out. Hopefully I will find a Beater able to live up to your legacy, Roger, although I doubt it! We'll see what happens, and I'll keep you informed._

_            Well, classes are all right. Potions is a drag... I don't see how Charisse can stand it. OH! Guess who's the new Defense teacher this year?! FLEUR DELACOUR!! She arrived late last night after the feast, I believe. You remember her, of course... I distinctly remember you and her going out to 'walk' in the rosebushes during the Yule Ball, you naughty, naughty boy... she's still like before, a bit more personable, though. Her lecture was fairly interesting and informative, despite the fact that the male half of the class probably didn't hear a word of it. Afterwards, she told me that she heard from the first year Ravenclaws that I was the new Quidditch captain, and congratulated me. Also told me to say hello to you for her. Will that old romance rekindle? Hmm? In any case, I will have to tease you a lot in subsequent letters. I would tease her as well, but she could take away points from me for impertinence... hah!_

_            Advanced Transfiguration is difficult, but fascinating. McGonagall has assigned all of us special research projects. I'm doing mine on Animagus transformations. It's quite interesting. Hmm, perhaps someday I will achieve that skill._

_            Tell your friends that I am glad that they liked the dumplings. But, flattered though I am, there will not be additional shipments of them until at least Christmastime._

_            Zach, David, Edward and Sebastian all send their greetings to their former Quidditch captain. _

_            Well, it's quite late now, and I've Transfiguration first thing tomorrow morning. I had better go to bed. Farewell for now!_

_Yours,_

_Cho_

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And that's chapter one! Review!!!


	2. Warrington Is A Pillock

**NOTES:**

Chapter two! Wheee!! Isn't this fun?!? 

**DEDICATION:**

This chapter is dedicated to the magnificent Charisse Jade Ling, a talented artist and wonderful friend! You go girl!! 

**DISCLAIMER:**

If you think that I should own Harry Potter, that's GREAT!! Unfortunately, you're not JKR...*sighs* none of us have any power....~.~...*goes off to start her own religion in hopes of becoming immortal and getting the power to own HP* 

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'Til The End 

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The first Prefect meeting of the year took place two days after the term had started. At 8:00 in the evening, Cho, along with Zachary, Padma, Terry, and Stefan, made her way to the empty office one floor directly above the Great Hall. On the way there, they met the Gryffindor Prefects, with an excited-looking Hermione Granger walking at the front. Zachary left the Ravenclaw group to greet his girlfriend, 6th year Gryffindor Prefect Angela Snow, and gradually, the two groups homogenized into a big group. Together, they arrived at a fantastical tapestry of a griffin, a unicorn, a phoenix and a dragon and waited. A moment later, the Head Boy, Slytherin Carl Warrington, came sweeping down the hallway. Charisse followed behind him, waving at Cho and rolling her eyes at Warrington's back. 

"I saw that, Weston." Warrington said blandly, not even bothering to turn around. "All Hail Warrington," he spoke calmly to the tapestry. Hermione managed to choke back a laugh. The Hufflepuff Prefects, who had just come upon the scene, did not. Justin Finch-Fletchley and Hannah Abbott, the youngest of that particular group, immediately started snickering amongst themselves. The tapestry, however, did not laugh. It rolled up to reveal the entranceway to the Prefects' office. One by one, they filed in, the Slytherin Prefects who were the last to arrive entering before Charisse tapped the tapestry with her wand and it rolled back down into place. 

"All right. What is to be discussed this week?" Hermione spoke up immediately as soon as everyone was seated. 

"You mean, besides the fact that Carl should change his last name to 'Lockhart'?" Charisse muttered quietly to a giggling Cho. 

"Kindly do not compare me to that useless bint, Weston." Warrington seemed to have the hearing of a fox as well as eyes on the back of his head. Angela Snow raised a dark eyebrow. 

"But a 'bint' is a _girl_." 

"That's my point. But I'm not. If any of you ladies have any doubts about the issue, I will be happy to remove them." Warrington said in a placid voice, raising one eyebrow very slightly. "However, now is not the time. Onto more substantial things: Johnson," he turned towards Angelina Johnson and the other Gryffindor Prefects, "I don't think it would be too much to ask, for you to tell that Weasley twit boyfriend of yours and his twin brother not to dispense any more of those damnable charmed sweets to Slytherin First-year students, would it?" 

"I'll try my best." Angelina replied. Warrington narrowed his eyes. 

"Don't say you'll 'try your best'. _Make them stop._ I'm bloody sick of seeing canaries in the dungeons. Tell them that if they don't stop, you'll stop shagging them. That should do the trick." 

"_S-shagging THEM?!_" Angelina looked outraged. Warrington shrugged. 

"Whatever. Just make sure it's dealt with. Next issue?" He looked expectantly at Charisse. 

"We have been asked by Headmaster Dumbledore to set up a tutoring program for the younger students, 4th year and under, so now we have to find out who is free on which days at which times, and what everyone would be willing to tutor others in." She reached into her book bag and extracted several sheets of parchment and a box of sugar quills. Handing everyone a sheet of parchment and a sugar quill, Charisse continued, "Several of you might be competent at a variety of things, so please put down the one that you think you are the best at, followed by an alternate one. Afterwards, sign your name at the bottom, and I shall set up a schedule." 

Soon, the slips of parchment were collected. Charisse read them through, making notes on her own sheet of parchment. Finally, she looked back up. 

"All right. Here is what we have. Monday evenings from 8:00 to 9:00, we have Justin Finch-Fletchley and Dean Thomas for Muggle Studies. From 9:00 to 10:00, we have Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger for Arithmancy. Tuesday evenings from 8:00 to 9:00, we have Hannah Abbott and Joshua Silverman for Herbology. From 9:00 to 10:00, we have Moira Flint and Stefan Ackerley for Defense Against The Dark Arts. On Wednesday evenings from 8:00 to 9:00, we have Maeve Lexington and Janet Branstone for Divination. From 9:00 to 10:00, we have Angela Snow and Zachary Turpin for Charms. On Thursday evenings from 8:00 to 9:00, we have Carl Warrington and myself for Potions. From 9:00 to 10:00 we have Terry Boot and Cyrus Chilton for Astronomy. On Friday evenings from 8:00 to 9:00, we have Cho Chang and Nathaniel Drake for Transfiguration. From 9:00 to 10:00 we have Padma Patil and Blaise Zabini for Ancient Runes. Saturday afternoons from 5:30 to 6:30 we have Angelina Johnson and Samuel McKinnon to have a special class for flying. That leaves Luke MacDonald and Maria Green to supervise the OWL preparation study hall for 5th year students on Sunday evenings from 8:00 to 9:00. All right? I will send this information to the teachers, and they can inform their classes of when tutoring sessions are." 

Warrington, who had been looking at the table that Charisse had drawn up on the blackboard and making his own notes, spoke up once more. "Now, here are the times for Quidditch practice, which involves several of us present here. Monday evenings from 7:30 to 9:00, Gryffindor. Tuesday evenings from 7:30 to 9:00, Ravenclaw. Wednesday evenings from 7:30 to 9:00, Slytherin. Thursday evenings, 7:30 to 9:00, Hufflepuff. This doesn't conflict with any of your tutoring schedules. Chang, Johnson, McKinnon, inform your teams." 

Everyone copied down their pertinent information. Then, Hermione Granger raised a hand. "How do our rounds work out?" 

"They work out as they've always done for the past 100 or so years, Granger." Warrington replied, not looking up from his notebook, on which he was scribbling down Quidditch tactics. Hermione gave an exasperated sigh. 

"You did not answer my question." She growled. Warrington ignored her, muttering something about Hawkshead Attacking formation to himself. 

"What we generally do is have at least one Prefect from each house making rounds every night from 8:00 to midnight. You can decide which of you will go for that night amongst yourselves, depending on how busy you are or what other things you have to do. However, every Prefect has to log at least one night a week, and any extra time you do will earn you five points per night, provided that you keep your grades up." Cho explained to the younger girl. Hermione nodded gratefully. 

"All right. Now, we have to decide the passwords for the Prefects' bathrooms. I assume that you all know where they are?" Warrington, seemingly done with his Quidditch planning, once again addressed the Prefects. Everyone nodded. He jerked his head towards one end of the office. "Boys, we'll discuss it over there. Girls, you go to the other end. Of course, I know that there will be people of both genders, Prefect and otherwise, shagging in both bathrooms within two weeks, but right now, we're to keep a semblance of secrecy and separation." Saying so, he led the male Prefects to one side, as the girls followed Charisse to the other. 

Five minutes later, after Cho and the others had decided, amid much laughter, on "Warrington is a Pillock", the two groups reconvened once more. Charisse and Carl made a few closing statements, and the meeting was adjourned. The Prefects re-grouped with their respective housemates and filed out of the office. As she headed towards Ravenclaw Tower, Cho saw Carl Warrington put an arm around an alarmed Charisse as the two of them walked towards the Head Boy/Head Girl quarters and remark, with a lecherous grin, "Our password is 'Professor Delacour is a shaggable piece.' What's yours?" 

* * *

On the 10th of September after dinnertime, Cho and the rest of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team headed out to the Quidditch pitch. Cho was in a good mood that day. Over the summer, she had saved up her allowance money, and sold her Comet 260. With the money she got from that transaction and her savings, she had bought a used Nimbus 2000. The handle was a bit scratched in places, but the broom was still in fairly good condition, and a big improvement speed and performance-wise on her old one. This would be the first day she flew on it during practice. 

Within minutes of their arrival, several Ravenclaw students had showed up for tryouts. Unfortunately, only one of them, 5th year student Su Li, had brought her own broomstick. Cho, after a few moments' hesitation, offered up her Nimbus 2000 for the new students to try out with, after Zach had kindly cast an unbreakable charm upon the handle. 

Chaser tryouts came first. The first one to make an attempt was 4th year Judith Alexander. She was a fair flier, and dodged the bludgers very well, but she also dodged the Quaffle when it was thrown at her. After her, 5th year Serafina Moon tried out. She certainly caught the Quaffle, but flew too slowly, even on Cho's fast broom, to be very successful at the passing and group maneuvers required for being a Chaser. Finally, Su Li stepped up, politely declined Cho's offer of her broom, saying that she was far more used to her own, and managed to score twice in ten minutes while flying on a Cleansweep. Cho grinned as Su landed and proffered a hand to the younger girl. "Welcome to the team!" 

Beater tryouts took a shorter time. There were only two people trying out, and 5th year Kevin Entwhistle easily got the position. He grinned when the team congratulated him, and told them that he had learnt how to play American Muggle baseball one summer while visiting an aunt. Cho thanked everyone for trying out, told Kevin to get a broomstick for himself if at all possible, and as the rest of the students headed back inside the castle, she led the now-complete team in a practice. 

The new broomstick certainly improved her performance. After catching the golf-ball that they used as the snitch in practices within 15 minutes, Cho discussed strategy briefly with her team, then ended the practice. After taking a brief shower, she headed back to Ravenclaw Tower. She needed to write to Roger and tell him about the new and quite possibly improved Ravenclaw House team. 

* * *

"Again!" Auror Marshall Steele roared. Roger stood up slowly, trying to ignore the burning pain in his back. God, this was hell! He was already getting beat-up, and he had not yet even become a full-fledged Auror yet. 

He had started training exactly three months ago, on the last day of June. They had learnt the curses and countercurses. He had become more than adept at dueling, the fast reflexes and accurate aim honed by years of Quidditch making him one of the best of the ones who just joined the Auror guild. But that was one-on-one dueling. Now, things were not so simple and straightforward. Now, Roger faced his trainer in front, and someone else attacking from the side. Two against one, for the Death Eaters might well just do such a thing, not giving the unfairness of it any additional thought. The first time, he had managed to hold off both Steele and Underwood for a whole ten minutes, until he made the mistake of letting his eyes leave Steele for a moment. In that moment, the trainer had fired a hex at him that had thrown him ten feet backwards and slammed him to the ground. 

The curt, silent mediwizard on site had given him a perfunctory check, and nodded towards Steele, indicating that he had no broken bones or other serious injuries, and was therefore able to continue with the brutal workout. 

But then, he was not the only one, and not even the one in the worst shape. It _had_ taken Steele and Underwood ten minutes before they could bring him down, which was a better time than most the others could say. He was not even veryseriously injured. 

He drew his wand, brushed back the sweaty hair from his brow, and narrowed his eyes, facing his opponents and bowing quickly. Almost before he had raised his head from the bow, Underwood fired a hex at him. He barely dodged out of the way, firing a hex back at that trainer as he did so. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Steele approach silently, wand drawn. Right. This was just another Quidditch game, and he was facing bludgers from both opposing Beaters. He turned his body very slightly, so that he would be able to pivot at a split second's notice, and continued to face Underwood, keeping Steele within his peripheral vision at all times. He saw Steele raise his wand a fraction, and just as Steele began his incantation, Roger fired a strong hex at Underwood, whipped around, and yelled "STUPEFY!" at Steele. 

A crash told him that his spell had been successful, and this time, he learnt his lesson. He did not keep his eyes fixed upon Steele to admire his handiwork, but turned immediately back to Underwood, and not a moment too soon, for Underwood cast a concealment charm upon himself. 

"Revealus!" Roger aimed his wand at where Underwood had been last, "STUPEFY!" 

"HALT!" The laconic mediwizard on the scene spoke out. "Ennervate." He pointed his wand at the two Aurors, as Roger watched, panting. It had not been so bad while he was actually _dueling_, but now, the pain from the throw he took had returned with a vengeance, and moreover, he felt completely drained after using so many spells. He stumbled towards the nearest wall and leaned against it, trying to catch his breath. 

"Davies!" Steele barked. Roger turned back towards his trainer with effort. Were they going to do this _again_?! 

But Steele kept his wand in an unthreatening position. There was a curious gleam of approval in his eyes. Underwood was outright smiling. 

"Come with us." 

Confused, Roger followed as they walked out of the open space that they used for training purposes, and back into the building. Steele and Underwood walked briskly, and he struggled to keep up. Finally, they reached an office, and Underwood opened the door, gesturing for him to enter. Steele sat down at the desk, and opened up a drawer. 

Steele seemed to find what he was looking for, and took it out, leaving it face-down upon the desk. He turned back to Roger. "You've done well today, boy. I've also been watching and monitoring your actions closely these past few days. You've always gone over what was required, and even though we've pushed you to the limit, you'd always gotten back up. And today, you've done what none of those others out there could have done. No...I don't mean managing to take down the two of us. Those others, in time, will hopefully be able to do that as well. But you managed to do that _after_ the first duel." 

"Thank you, sir." 

Steele chuckled slightly, "You're welcome. Whatever driving force is behind your motivation, she must really be something, eh? Now, that's a girl that you wouldn't find at every turn." 

"What?!" How did he know that?! 

Steele chuckled again, "It's obvious, isn't it? You've that sort of avenging spirit in you. If you weren't at least in part doing this because you either want to vindicate or protect someone who is special to you, I'll be damned." He laughed for a moment at Roger's slack-jawed face, then turned back to the sheet that he had taken from the desk drawer, pointing his wand at it. A silver spark shot out, turning into a stamp at the bottom, and then, Steele and Underwood quickly signed it. 

Steele handed the parchment to Roger. "It's your certification. You, Roger Davies, are now a full-fledged, certified Auror. Underwood will go down and register you later today. Congratulations." 

After an ecstatic round of handshakes and thanks, Steele grinned at the younger man. "Go home and rest, you're done for the day. Tomorrow, you'll start researching Dark Wizards. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go check to see if those others can be whipped into shape." He left, robes billowing behind him. 

Roger stared at the certification in his hand for a moment, then a smile that threatened to split his face apart appeared at the corners of his mouth. A moment later, he disapparated with a pop. 

He Apparated back into his flat, and promptly passed out in exhaustion on the couch. Nor did he awaken until dawn the next morning, when the tapping on his window indicated the arrival of another letter from Cho. 

* * *

_Owl from C. Chang to R. Davies, 1 October_

_Roger, _

_Yes, Quidditch is going famously well. I daresay that with a bit more practice and understanding of the finer points of the game, Su Li and Kevin Entwhistle can become quite good at the sport. They both fly very well, and Kevin has placed an order for a Cleansweep Seven, due to arrive a good two weeks before the first Quidditch match (Ravenclaw vs. Slytherin...wish us luck!!). _

_Prefect meetings are...well...very interesting, to say the least. Head Boy Warrington has not ceased being his usual smart-arsed self, although he is really not that bad. Huh, I never thought that I would be saying this of a Slytherin, and a rival captain to boot! But, really, he is probably a slightly better captain than Flint...but then again, just about ANYONE would be...After the last meeting, he stopped me in the hall and informed me that if the Slytherins won the first match, we should change the password to the girls' bathroom to "Slytherins are the best shags"!!! I MUST win...and then, perhaps HE should change the password for the Prefects' office to "Carl Warrington can kiss my Ravenclaw arse"! _

_I find myself quite enjoying tutoring the younger set in Transfiguration, and Professor McGonagall stopped me in class yesterday congratulating me on doing a fine job. Supposedly, Nathaniel Drake and I have brought up three 2nd Years' marks up by ten percent. It's nice to know that I'm doing something well and useful. The research project is going well...I'm nearly through with reading about the relevant theory._

_My grandmother has gone back to China. Supposedly, they have had someone new start training as a Mage, someone who insisted upon it, despite the fact that she (yes, a girl, too!) was several years underage. However, despite her youth, she has shown especial promise, and already, they are rather unsure of what to do with her. So, my grandmother has gone back to train her personally. Hmm, I hope to meet her someday...perhaps she will come here and help out with the cause when the time comes. I hope so._

_Well, that is all the news I have for now. Hope Auror training is going well! Keep in touch and tell me how everything goes!_

_Yours,_

_Cho_

~ ~ ~ * * * ~ ~ ~

Wheee!! Wasn't that fun?!? Now, you know what to do....REVIEW!!!


	3. Snakes and Eagles

**NOTES:**

And here is Chapter three! In which Cho has a fun talk with another Prefect, tutoring sessions begin, and Ravenclaw plays Slytherin in Quidditch... with interesting results. 

**DEDICATION:**

            This chapter is dedicated to Mr. Thalia Kendall, a.k.a. Fred. You're all a girl could want, and then some more...and you're not even scared of me... I love you!!

**DISCLAIMER:**

            In accordance with prophecy, the day that I will have ownership of Harry Potter, there will be both a solar and a lunar eclipse, followed by a meteor shower. 

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'Til The End

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            "About to make your rounds?" Zach looked up from his Arithmancy homework to see Cho pinning on her Prefect badge.

            Cho nodded, "Yes. It's my turn, and I finished my homework already. Have a nice night!" 

            "You, too." Zach gave her a little wave, and turned back to his homework. Cho walked out of the Ravenclaw Common Room and made her way towards the Prefects' office.

            Soon, she met up with Moira Flint from Slytherin, Hermione Granger from Gryffindor and Hannah Abbott from Hufflepuff. "Good evening, everyone." Cho greeted them.

            "So, who's patrolling where tonight?" the Gryffindor Prefect had fit into her role perfectly, and despite the fact that she often snapped at Malfoy and Warrington, Hermione genuinely liked her post and enjoyed being with the other Prefects. Cho was sure that in two years, this would be the Prefect who would be made Head Girl.

            "I'll take the Astronomy Tower and upper floor." Hannah volunteered. Moira chortled.

            "Meeting someone, perhaps?"

            Hannah rolled her eyes, "Ernie is at Quidditch practice. Sorry to disappoint you."

            Before the two could bicker any more, Cho spoke up, "All right. So, I gather that Hannah will be taking the Tower. I will take the main floors, who wants to come with me?"

            "Granger can. I'll do the dungeons." Moira said dismissively. "Snape tends to not like intrusions from you non-holy ones, anyway." Saying so, the dark-haired Slytherin witch turned on her heels and glided down the path from whence she came. Cho turned to Hermione.

            "Guess it's us, then." The Gryffindor Prefect nodded. Together, they walked down the stairs towards the Great Hall.

            "So, how are your classes going?" Cho asked conversationally. She did not really know Hermione that well. True, they had met briefly last year, during the Tournament, and she knew that Hermione was one of Harry Potter's best friends and considered one of the smartest witches ever to matriculate at Hogwarts, but beyond that, she did not know much of the Gryffindor fifth year.

            "Pretty well. I'm somewhat nervous about O.W.L.s, though. I don't know how difficult they are going to be. I mean... I've been talking to the Weasleys about them a bit over the summer. Fred and George didn't really say much, but Percy studied very hard for them and got very good results. I hope to do at least as well."

            "They're not too bad. I know that you will do all right." Cho reassured her, "What classes are you taking this year?"

            "Well, besides the usual, I'm taking Care of Magical Creatures, Arithmancy and Ancient Runes. Professor Vector says that perhaps I will be able to take Advanced Arithmancy next year, I'm quite excited! I just wish that Harry and Ron were in all of my classes... but they're still taking Divination. Are you taking any Advanced classes?"

            "Oh, Transfiguration and Defense Against the Dark Arts." Cho replied, "But it's really quite interesting. I'm going a research project on Animagus transformations in Transfiguration, and in Defense, we're actually learning about Disfigurement Hexes! Rather gruesome, but quite useful to know about. Fleur... er... Professor Delacour is a good teacher." The Frenchwoman had become friends with Cho, and as there were less than three years difference between their ages, they called each other by their given names when it was not class time.

            At the mention of Fleur's name, Hermione made a slight face. "Yes, she's a good teacher. Pity that Ron doesn't pay attention to his _class_ work. Spends his time goggling at her, as if he'd never seen a girl before."

            Cho grinned, she'd certainly heard of the youngest Weasley boy's 'goggling' before, from an incensed Padma Patil after the Yule Ball last year. "Boys tend to do that around her... you must remember that my former Quidditch captain went to the Yule Ball with her. At least _you_ did not have to deal with _that_." She rolled her eyes at the recollection of her male teammates congratulating Roger after she had agreed to go to the ball with him. Surprisingly, though, although she had certainly mentioned Fleur in her letters to him, and teased him a few times, he did not rise to the bait, and in his replies, seemed remarkably cool-headed about the part-veela. "Oh well, don't worry about it, I daresay your Ron will come to his senses, and see reason." she said slyly, "Boys are gits sometimes, but we love them anyway, hmm?" 

            Hermione blushed slightly. "I – I suppose." Then, all of the sudden, she became serious. "Oh, Cho, I... want to talk to you about something."

            "Oh? What is it?"

            "It's just..." Hermione swallowed, then said hurriedly, "You... you don't blame Harry, do you? During the Final Task... he never meant for that to happen... really..." she seemed rather unsure of how to continue, but Cho sighed and cut her off.

            "Hermione, it's all right. Dumbledore talked to me afterwards. I know what happened. I don't blame him."

            Hermione nodded, "I'm really sorry about Cedric, and so is Harry," she said sincerely. 

            "It's all right, but thanks." Cho replied, "I miss him a lot, but I'll survive. I have to."

            "That's the spirit." Hermione smiled rather tightly, "Let's check the Charms corridor, shall we?"

            "All right." And together, the two girls continued on the Prefect rounds. It was a rather uneventful night. Two students were caught lurking about after hours, but Cho and Hermione let them off with a warning. One time, they narrowly escaped being pelted with eggs by Peeves, but Cho was not in Advanced Transfiguration for nothing. The eggs were turned into birds, which flew away out a nearby window, and Peeves zoomed away, cursing. Hermione looked impressed, and for the next ten minutes, Cho showed the younger girl how to cast the spell. Then, they heard the clock strike nine.

            "Oh, we're close to the Great Hall. They must be wrapping up a tutoring session." Hermione remarked. Cho nodded.

            "Let's wait here for a few minutes, I want to say hello to Charisse."

            "All right."

            Sure enough, moments later, several younger students started pouring out of the Great Hall. Hermione greeted Dennis Creevey, who grinned at her before heading off in the direction of Gryffindor Tower. A moment later, Warrington sauntered out of the Great Hall, nonchalantly spinning his potions text on the tips of two callused fingers. He paused when he saw Cho and Hermione.

            "Chang, Granger." He greeted, "Any detentions given?"

            "No, only two warnings." Cho answered him. He scowled and shook his head.

            "What rubbish. Next time, pack them off to Filch." He paused, then quirked an eyebrow at Cho, "Ready to get your arses kicked on Saturday?"

            "In your dreams, Warrington. Tell Malfoy that he is going to bite the dust." Cho retorted, "And after we wipe the pitch with you, I'll have Charisse lend you one of her extra Ravenclaw ties for you to wear to the next Prefect meeting."

            "One of Weston's ties? Too small... although it might suffice for making a codpiece." Warrington replied thoughtfully. Hermione choked. At that moment, Charisse, followed by a small first year Ravenclaw girl whose name Cho recalled as being Una Markham, joined them at the entrance of the Great Hall, just in time to hear Warrington's last comment.

            "I _don't_ want to know." 

            Warrington smirked, "Just having a completely innocent, friendly, intelligent conversation with my fellow Prefects, Weston."

            "Right... and I'm an adolescent male blast-ended screwt." Charisse rolled her eyes.

            "Really? Does having a stinger interfere with shagging?" 

            During this exchange, the first year Una Markham had left the group to head back to Ravenclaw Tower. She had just gone about ten paces when a boy, whom Cho recognized as Anthony Weston, Charisse's brother, barreled into her. The boy glared at the girl, then wrinkled his nose. "Watch where you're going, Mudblood!"

            Cho and Hermione gasped. Una Markham narrowed her eyes at the boy. Warrington raised an eyebrow curiously. But Charisse strode up to her brother, her face flushed crimson. "Anthony, apologize to her."

            Anthony scowled up at his sister, "Father told me that I didn't have to listen to you."

            Charisse gasped in shock and outrage, "Be that as it may, I cannot have you saying such things in this school; it's horribly ill-bred and offensive. Apologize."

            "No." The two siblings faced each other, Anthony glaring up in defiance, Charisse looking down at him, a mix of sorrow and frustration on her face.

            "Five points from Slytherin," Charisse finally said softly. Anthony's glower deepened.

            "Bint," he muttered as he pushed past his sister, Cho, Hermione and Warrington, obviously there for the Astronomy tutoring session. Cho watched as Charisse hurriedly helped Una Markham pick up her things, and apologize for her brother's rude behavior, her head bowed and her red face hidden by her blonde hair, which had fallen over her shoulder. 

            "Is he always like that?" Charisse asked Una softly. The first year girl nodded, then shrugged.

            "It's all right. He's just jealous that I do better than him in Astronomy. Boys are stupid like that," Una said matter-of-factly as she gathered up all of her things, and thanked Charisse before continuing on her way back to Ravenclaw Tower.

            At that moment, Terry Boot and Cyrus Chilton, the Astronomy tutors, came striding down the hall. Charisse, seeing that her job was done, immediately started walking off towards the Head Boy/Head Girl quarters. Warrington lingered for a moment longer, taking Chilton aside for a moment and having a few private words with his fellow Slytherin. Chilton looked surprised for a moment, then nodded. Warrington smiled very briefly, then followed Charisse's footsteps back to Head Boy/Head Girl quarters.

            Several hours later, Cho returned to Ravenclaw Tower, quite tired out from her rounds. "Aurora Borealis," she called out to Proserpine. The portrait opened, and she saw Terry Boot reading through a long roll of parchment.

            "Lots of homework?" she asked sympathetically. He shook his head.

            "No. Chilton, for some indiscernible reason, decided to spring a surprise examination upon the boy who comes for tutoring. Of course, he goes and makes the test long and hard, then says that he has no time to grade it because he's got a Quidditch game coming up this weekend. Slytherins..." Terry scowled, "Never done such a thing before, I wonder what in the world made him do it this time..."

            Slytherins indeed. Cho decided then and there that she would never _quite_ understand the species.

*          *          *

            However, lack of understanding aside, it was a very indomitable, steely-eyed Cho who shook hands with the smirking Carl Warrington Saturday morning on the Quidditch pitch. The rest of their teams were already up in the air, and Cho noticed, with satisfaction, that both Su and Kevin took their positions in the air like they've been doing it for their entire lives. 

            Gryffindor seventh year Lee Jordan was commentating. "And today's match is between Ravenclaw and Slytherin. For the Eagles, we have Chasers Li, Turpin and Wellesley, Beaters Entwhistle and Hamilton, Keeper Calvert and Seeker Chang. For the Serpents, we have Chasers Chilton, Montague and Warrington, Beaters Bole and Bulstrode, Keeper Nott and Seeker Malfoy. Both Chang and Warrington are new captains this year, although I must say that in the attractiveness department, the Eagles' lady captain certainly wins out." Cho blushed somewhat as laughter and a few catcalls sounded in the audience. Warrington sniggered before taking the air, and Cho mounted her broom as well.

            "And they're off! Slytherin is in possession of the Quaffle, Chilton tearing up the field, flying towards the goal. Nice interception by David Wellesley, and he's off! Ooh, and Bulstrode pelts a bludger towards the Ravenclaw Chaser... Wellesley passes to Li, a newcomer, talented, fast and quite cute too... and she scores!" 

            Cho heard the cheers of the Ravenclaw supporters and smiled. Her team would do well. Two of her Chasers were seasoned and experienced, with a great understanding not only of the game's strategies, but of every other team's favorite tactics as well. The third was new, but damn fast and agile. They'd worked well together in practice, the three of them. Now, she had to make sure that Ravenclaw scored as many points as possible, while holding Malfoy off the snitch.

            A moment later, she saw Warrington, Quaffle tucked under one arm, zipping towards the Ravenclaw goal posts. He dodged a bludger from Kevin, none-too-gently knocked Zach out of the way, and pulled a burly arm back to aim. Narrowing her eyes, she pushed forward with a burst of speed and cut right in front of him, obstructing his line of vision of the goal posts. That moment was all that was needed for Edward Hamilton, her other Beater, to pelt a bludger at him and force him to drop the Quaffle into Su's waiting hands. Warrington glared at her, and Cho gave her most Slytherin-like smirk back.

            The game continued. The chasers on both teams were fairly evenly matched. Bole 'accidentally' hit David on the leg with his Beater's club, and Zach took the penalty, making the score 70/50 in favor of Ravenclaw. And then... Cho saw it. A glimmer of gold, flittering close to the faculty stands, near the ground. She zoomed forward and downward in hot pursuit. A whooshing sound behind her a moment later indicated that Malfoy had seen it as well. Cho narrowed her eyes and pressed forward, mentally urging her broom to go faster. Malfoy was gaining on her slightly, but by heaven, she _would_ win. '_Come on... just a little faster._' She muttered to herself. There! She was within ten feet of the Snitch, then five, then three, then two... it suddenly dropped down about two feet, and Cho, without a thought, somersaulted on her broom, flying upside down, and reached out a hand to grab the snitch. Her hand closed around it, but Cho did not have time to hear the yells of triumph from the Ravenclaw supporters. Her broom continued forward due to its momentum, and as she was still upside down, the top of her head hit the ground, and her world went dark. 

*          *          *

            Cho awoke to find that night had fallen, and that she was in the infirmary. She opened her eyes, then promptly shut them, grimacing. Her head felt like it had been stomped on by a herd of stampeding centaurs. "Ow, this bloody hurts." She muttered.

            Suddenly, she felt a hand pushing a goblet into hers, and a familiar, deep voice saying, "Come now, drink up... that's a good girl." Another hand reached behind her back, gently but firmly pulling her into a sitting position and she felt the edge of a glass raised to her lips. Automatically, she opened them up, and gulped down the thick, gooey fluid. Immediately, the pain in her head lessened, and she re-opened her eyes.

            "_ROGER?!"_ She gaped at her former Quidditch captain, who was sitting by her bedside, a somewhat relieved smile on his face. "What on _earth_ are you doing here?!"

            He smiled somewhat ruefully at her. "I'm off work today, so I got permission from Dumbledore to come and watch the game. Cho, you are the most bloody reckless Seeker I've ever _seen_!" His voice was filled with a mixture of awed admiration and worried disapproval, "Well... you caught the Snitch all right. I've never seen anyone flying like that before... ever... and then, you just crashed into the ground..." here his face darkened, "We were frantic... you weren't moving... well, Dumbledore conjured up a stretcher and carted you off here. You've a concussion. You'll be here for the rest of the weekend, at the very least..."

            "We won?!?" Cho stilled, then gave a very un-Cho-like squeal, "_We WON!!_"

            Roger shook his head at her, "First broken bones, now a concussion. Kindly try to not get yourself killed on the pitch, Chang."

            "I make no promises, but I'll try my best." Cho smiled, "How long have you been here?"

            "Since you were levitated in, about seven hours ago." Roger replied, "And in the meantime, you've gained quite a substantial amount of material goods." He gestured towards the pile of candy and flowers on her bedside table, "It's about nine o'clock right now."

            "You've been here for so long?! Have you eaten?" Cho asked, flabbergasted but somehow gratified. She hadn't realized how much she'd missed him until right now.

            "Yes, Zach nicked some food from the kitchens for me earlier on. You should probably start on that pile of candy."

            "All right." She grabbed a chocolate frog and started nibbling on the sweet, "It's nice of you to come see me, Roger."

            He reached out a hand and patted her shoulder fondly, "My pleasure."

            The two talked a bit more, and Cho felt herself starting to feel drowsy after a while. She lay back down on her side on the bed, the post-game exhaustion setting in upon her body. Roger stood up and gently pulled the comforter to her chin. She felt a sense of peace and comfort warm her body from head to toe, and smiled as she curled up and closed her eyes. "Will you stay just a little longer, 'til I fall asleep? I've missed you." She murmured, her voice half muffled by approaching sleep.

             She felt a warm, graceful but callused hand lightly stroke her hair, then her cheek. The last thing she heard before sleep claimed her was his voice, gentle and soothing, "I'm right here for you, Cho...'til the end."

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Awww...wasn't that sweet of Roger *glomps him repeatedly*?! Anyway, _REVIEW!!_


	4. Blimey! I must have gotten him harder th...

**NOTES:**

            In this chapter, we have another Quidditch match, Harry makes an appearance, and find out more interesting things about certain characters...yay!!

**DEDICATION:**

            This chapter is dedicated to the awesome Gelasia, who patiently listens to me babbling and thinking aloud and helps me get ideas for the fic! Thanks again, hon!!

**DISCLAIMER:**

            As a Biology Major, I am quite well aware that DNA technology has not yet progressed to a state of advancement in which I would be able to turn myself into a clone of JKR. 

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'Til The End

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            The second Quidditch match of the season was played on a cold, crisp winter's day. Cho, having spent a week in the hospital and several subsequent weeks wrangling with accumulated schoolwork, was glad for the break. This day, she, along with a crowd of other students, headed out to the stands to watch Gryffindor play Hufflepuff. 

            One by one, the players on both teams flew out and took positions in the air. 6th year Beater Samuel McKinnon, the new Hufflepuff captain, landed in the middle of the pitch, along with Angelina Johnson, and the two shook hands. Cho looked at the other players in the air. Replacing Cedric as the Seeker on his team was the reserve Seeker 2 years ago, 4th year Mason Everett. Also, Justin Finch-Fletchley and Susan Bones were new Hufflepuff Chasers this year, and Ernie MacMillan, the new Keeper. The Gryffindor team remained largely unchanged. Replacing Oliver Wood as Keeper was a small girl with wavy red hair tied back in a ponytail, whom Cho recognized as Ginny Weasley, the youngest child of that family, sister of Beaters Fred and George Weasley. Really, there were not too many alterations made to either team, but this game felt so different from that last game that Gryffindor and Hufflepuff played...despite the much-improved weather this time, and the absence of Dementors, Cho half-wished that she could turn back time to that last game...back when things were still much more simple...

            Then, the whistle blew and the game began. Cho abandoned her cheerless thoughts and began to methodically make observations of both the teams, taking note of strategies used, strengths and weaknesses, and most especially, the performance of the newcomers. 

            The Hufflepuff Chasers were quite good, working as a seamless whole, and Cho smiled slightly. Cedric would have been proud. However, the new Gryffindor Keeper, despite her small size, was quite skilled as well, and blocked the shots quickly and efficiently. 

            And then, when the score was 70/30 in favor of Gryffindor, Cho saw Harry Potter go into a dive, Mason Everett hot at his heels. The Gryffindor Seeker dived almost straight down, quickly somersaulting on his broom when Samuel McKinnon hit a bludger his way without even thinking about it. About a foot away from the ground, Harry caught the snitch, and the game was over. Gryffindors streamed triumphantly onto the field. Cho watched, deep in thought, for a few more moments, before going back to the castle.

*          *          *

            Cho was muttering potions ingredients to herself as she made her way from the Charms classroom towards the dungeons. "All right…a _Somniferum potion requires one ounce of crushed moonstone, three medium-sized sprigs of spearmint, one flask of sloth's milk, heated to a rolling boil, a scoop of tsetse fly stingers, two poppy leaves, and one cup of essence of…"_

            CRASH! She bumped into someone, who had been hurrying from the dungeons, going the opposite direction that she was going. A harried voice, male, hastily apologized.

            "…lavender…" Cho said weakly, before looking up to see who had knocked her down.

            "No, it's me, Harry," he quipped. Harry Potter was looking down at her, blushing somewhat, a half-worried, half-sheepish expression on his face. And, Cho noticed, there was a hint of trepidation in his eyes…as if meeting her would somehow bring something very unpleasant upon him.

            And she had a fairly good idea what it was that he feared.

            "Hullo, Harry. How're your classes going this year?" she asked him casually, trying to convey through her tone that she really did not blame him for Cedric's death, "Getting ready to take your OWLs?"

            "Hermione's been badgering Ron and I to study for them," he answered, with a wan smile. Cho nodded.

            "Good luck, then. Oh, and congratulations on your last win against Hufflepuff."

            Harry winced slightly, "Er…thanks. I…" he paused, seemingly uncomfortable with discussing games against Hufflepuff, "And you, too. That was an amazing win against Slytherin last month!"

            "Thanks, too bad I couldn't get the Head Boy to change the Prefect's office password to 'Carl Warrington can kiss my Ravenclaw arse'…although I _did manage to make him kowtow to Charisse in front of everyone."_

            Harry grinned, "Yeah, Hermione told me." All at once, he grew serious again, "You…er…Cedric…"

            Cho sighed, "I've already talked to Hermione about this, but I will say it again. I _know what happened that day. And Harry, I don't blame you. Cedric…" she paused, "Cedric was just at the wrong place at the wrong time. Had it been Fleur or Krum, the same thing would have happened to them. Stop beating yourself up over it, all right?"_

            Harry nodded slowly. He would come to terms with it someday, but for now, at least he had heard it from herself that she didn't blame him. "So…are you all right?"

            "Getting better," Cho replied, then glanced at her watch, "Good Lord, I must run, I can't be late for potions or else Snape will have my head, and after that concussion, I really rather value it! Good-bye, Harry!" She took off at top speed towards the dungeons, and Harry watched her for a moment before turning and walking away.

*          *          *

            After potions was Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts, her last class of the day. She waved at Fleur as she walked into the classroom, and sat down at her usual seat in the front. Soon, Zach's girlfriend, 6th year Gryffindor Angela Snow, came and sat down next to her. Cho and Angela chatted for a while, then quieted down as class began.

            That day, they learnt about various Dark creature-repelling charms, including, but not limited to, the Patronus charm. It was a difficult lesson, so it seemed like mere moments had passed when the lesson was over. Angela left to find Zach, and Cho lingered for a while to talk to Fleur after the other students were gone.

            "So, Fleur, how many different Patroni have you seen?"

            "Oh, mine looks like a winged 'orse…razzer like ze ones zat pulled ze Beauxbatons carriage. Erm...ze Charms teachair at Beauxbatons, Monsieur Roche, 'is looked like a wolf. Madame Maxime, 'ers looks like a giant falcon wis an 'uge wingspan about ze lengs of a sofa."

            "Oh, that must be quite impressive!"

            Fleur was about to answer when a knock sounded on the door, and a second-year girl with pale brown hair and chocolate eyes, wearing Ravenclaw robes, walked in. Cho recognized her as Orla Quirke. Fleur smiled at the girl.

            "Good evening, Orla. 'Ow are you?"

            "Fine, thanks. Evening, Cho."

            "Hullo…say, aren't you done with classes?" Cho asked, rather surprised. It was nearly dinnertime.

            Orla shrugged and said candidly, "Defense is fascinating…Professor Delacour is just giving me some extra lessons. I want to become an Auror when I graduate."

            "Oh? Like Roger." Cho said, almost to herself. Orla seemed to perk up at this.

            "Roger, as in Roger Davies? He graduated last year, didn't he? He was always so nice…and he came to watch you play Slytherin! He's an Auror now? How wonderful!" The second-year girl clearly idolized Roger, and Cho smiled.

            "Yes, Roger is wonderful, isn't he? Well, I better be off. Have a nice lesson, Orla! And see you later, Fleur!" Saying so, she stepped out of the classroom, gently closing the door behind her, and headed towards the Great Hall.

            "Hello there, Cho," a familiar soft voice sounded behind her. Cho turned around to see Charisse, followed by Warrington, walking towards her. The Head Girl was carrying a heavy-looking Advanced Potions book in her hands and smiling like the cat that ate the canary, while the Head Boy was scowling and rubbing his head.

            "Warrington, what did you do this time?" Cho asked, raising an eyebrow.

            "Nothing at all, Chang. Although if you see Weston being accosted by Slytherins any time in the near future…I know nothing of it!"

            "We were supposed to make a potion that forms words and symbols in the air when it smokes. Based on what ingredients we add to it, specific words and symbols are formed. This git sabotaged mine so that it formed the words 'I am one of the fifty girls who want to shag Carl Warrington' in bright green smoke! I have _never_ been so humiliated!" Charisse glared at the Head Boy as she explained to Cho. 

            Warrington looked unabashed and unruffled, "Simply stating the truth. Therefore, no reason to bruise my head. But at least, bruising my _head_ wouldn't interfere with certain important activities too much."

            "Lecherous sod!"

            "And proud of it."

            This bickering promised to grow more intense, when a much louder and angrier argument reached their ears. A familiar boy's voice was yelling, "You don't know _anything_ about flying! We've a better team!"

            "Oh really? Then how come _we_ won that Quidditch match?!" Another voice, a girl's, yelled back. 

            "That was just luck! We've beaten your team for the past several years running!"

            "I've heard about your team. They only win because they _CHEAT!_"

            By the time the last proclamation was uttered, all three Prefects had reached the scene. Charisse sighed. Her brother was glaring at Una Markham, who was shaking a small fist in his face. The two were practically head to head. Charisse called out, "Anthony!"

            The boy turned his glare upon his sister. "What do you want now, 'Risse?"

            "Do you _have_ to argue with her?"

            "Yes," Anthony lifted his chin mutinously, then caught sight of Cho and Warrington standing behind his sister, both with curious looks on their faces. He immediately turned to the Head Boy, "The Serpents are a better team, aren't they? I heard Draco say that you said so."

            Carl glanced at Charisse, Cho and Una. All three Ravenclaw girls were glaring at him. He shrugged and said lightly, "Well, what do you want me to say, kid? I'm a bit outnumbered here by three die-hard Eagles, including the captain, and all of them look like they're about to hex me. I've already been hit over the head by a huge textbook…"

            "You could just hex them back." Anthony frowned a little, obviously wanting Warrington to back his declaration up. Warrington looked at him with a thoughtful sort of expression.

            "Would you really want me to hex your sister?" he asked seriously, "If I did, she would become much less pretty."

            Anthony fell silent for several long moments, "Couldn't you hex her in a way that doesn't hurt her at all or make her less pretty?"

            Warrington laughed, "Not that I know of. But we're crowding up the hallway. I think we better go to dinner now. If you'd like, you can sit with me and the rest of the team and help us come up with strategies to kick their arses in the future." Saying so, he walked away from the three astonished Ravenclaw girls, leading the younger boy along.

            Charisse watched the two of them leave with her mouth agape, "Blimey! I must have gotten him harder than I thought!"

*          *          *

            That evening found Cho in the kitchens, a smudge of flour on her cheek, kneading a ball of dough with dexterous fingers. On the table was a mixing bowl filled with a mixture of finely minced meat, chives and spices, a pair of chopsticks sticking out like two bare miniature flagpoles from the top.

            It was three days before Christmas, and Cho was taking the time this evening to make her present for Roger. In his last owl, he had said that he would be unable to make it home for the holidays, because he was on assignment, and Cho had decided then and there that he deserved to have a decent dinner on Christmas day no matter what. He was voluntarily spending his holidays tracking down dark wizards, helping to keep the world they all lived in safe at personal risk. And she, Cho, would make sure that he would get the best Christmas dinner that could be had.

            Two hours later, Cho watched her owl fly out of the owlery with three dozen dumplings and a Christmas card, "I hope you have a Happy Christmas wherever you are, Roger," she whispered as the bird flew out of sight into the starry night sky.

*          *          *

Owl from R. Davies to C. Chang 26 December 

_Cho,_

_            Thank you very much for the dumplings, that was very sweet of you. I hope you had a Happy Christmas, better than mine, at any rate. Yesterday, I went on my first real mission as a full-fledged Auror, and what an unpleasant one it was! The Dark Mark had been cast over the house of a wizarding family in Dorset, where the man, who had been a prominent pureblooded family (not unlike Charisse's) had married a Muggle, and me and several others were sent to salvage what we could, look for clues and hunt for survivors. _

_            The house was entirely ransacked. Everything was shattered, broken, burnt…there was dust and debris everywhere. Two dead bodies, a man and a woman, killed by Avada Kedavra. Still holding each other's hands. Several of us broke down in tears at the sight, but the head Auror of the group informed us, in a weary voice, that this was something we would need to get used to. There was more of this to come._

_            Well, after looking around a bit and gathering up the evidence, everyone started to leave, but then, I heard the soft sound of crying coming from a closet. Went and opened it up, and there was a little girl there, only about five years old, clutching a teddy bear in one hand and dressed in her night gown. At first, she shrank back when I talked to her, but after a while, she told me that three masked men came to her house last night while everyone was sleeping. She had gone to the bathroom, and suddenly, she heard her parents screaming, and saw them being subjected to Cruciatus. She climbed into the closet and stayed there, until the screams abruptly stopped and she heard the Death Eaters say the Killing curse, and then, two thumps. _

_            I stayed and talked with her for a while, and shared your gift with her. As she ate, she said to me, "Your wife makes good food, Mr. Roger. You should protect her. The bad men in masks want to kill all the good people."_

_            I explained to her that the person who made the food was certainly too young to be married, and she simply looked at me with her big brown eyes and said, "Then you should protect her even more. She needs to live 'til she's married and a mommy, at least."_

_            This from the mouth of a little child…I took her back to my flat for a night, because she had no place to stay, and the poor girl cried herself to sleep. Today, I went to the Ministry and looked to see if there are any relatives with whom she could stay. She's now residing at an aunt's house. _

_             Well, now I know, beyond any shadow of a doubt, that being an Auror isn't about glory and heroism, so much as doing what **needs** to be done, and trying the utmost to stop and prevent such tragedies from happening. I just wish…I just wish that I could have done more. _

_            As always, keep in touch, and best wishes! _

_Yours,_

_Roger_

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Awww…how sad for Roger, and that little girl! *sniffles* More to come ASAP! REVIEW!!


	5. Broomsticks and Noogies

**NOTES:**

            And here is Chapter 5! In which the school year ends, Charisse, Warrington and their class graduate, and Cho goes to China for part of her summer vacation!

**DEDICATION:**

            This chapter is dedicated to Ryan, who is just plain cool. And gives me ideas about fics. Wheee!! Go you!!

**DISCLAIMER:**

            JKR created Harry Potter and company. I'm just borrowing them and torturing them a little for my personal amusement.

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'Til The End

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            Since the anguished letter he'd written her around Christmastime, Roger's subsequent owls had taken a less cheerful, optimistic tone. Part of Cho felt proud of him, to have taken on such a dangerous, disheartening job at such a time of peril. Another part, however, felt pain on his behalf… he was still too young. Only two years older than her. He should not have to become so disillusioned, so dispirited, at the prime of his youth. For now, she kept owling him with various tidbits of what happened at Hogwarts, trying to cheer him up, to give him something else to think about.

            Quidditch season continued. Gryffindor faced off with Slytherin, and the Serpents played a far dirtier game against the Lions than they had against Cho's team. Cho, sitting with Charisse and Zach in the stands, shook her head as Alicia Spinnet took the fourth penalty shot in the course of an hour. 

            "I thought Warrington would be a _bit_ better than Flint," Cho whispered to Charisse.

            "Warrington's a bit more into tactics than brute force, but he still wants to win. Besides, most of them were trained under Flint. And a lot of them have personal vendettas against the Gryffindors. They'll do whatever comes into their heads during the game, and when they're up against the Gryffindors..." Zach remarked. Charisse nodded in agreement.

            "Some of them are naturally unpleasant and appalling, Quidditch or no Quidditch. Take Hector Nott, for example. Simply horrid, mean and vile-tempered." Charisse grimaced, gesturing at the Slytherin Keeper, "His father and mine were cronies… the two of them, and Professor Snape, were always with each other during their school days. I've known Nott the younger since we were children. Most malicious little bully I've ever met. Still is. I try to avoid him when possible, but he's friends with Warrington and therefore visits our quarters much more frequently than I'd like."

            "Oh? He doesn't do anything bad to you, does he?" Cho asked, rather concerned.

            Charisse smiled wanly, "Don't worry. I told you, I've known him since we were children. And I'm partners in Charms with Verena Pritchard, his girlfriend. I've plenty of blackmail on him that would make Verena lose whatever respect she had for him entirely, were she to hear it. Besides, I can take care of myself, you know, and even if I couldn't, well, Nott isn't so stupid as to try anything to me when there's someone else around to witness it."

            Zach smirked, "Is Warrington so reliable a witness, then? Your faith in him is truly touching. I thought you considered him a 'lecherous sod'."

            Charisse raised a blonde eyebrow, "I never said he wasn't. He _is_ a lecherous sod, and he's egotistical and infuriating besides. But you know, the selection of Head Boy and Head Girl is made by the Headmaster himself, after conferences with all the teachers, and the Head Boy and Head Girl the year before, who make the recommendations. Therefore, as much as it pains me to say it, I do have some semblance of faith in the git, if Dumbledore chose him for the position. And moreover, I know from experience that there are many Slytherins much, much worse than him."

"That is true," Cho murmured, "Had Flint still been captain, I don't even want to think of what would have happened to me after I won against them. Oh!" All of the sudden, she jumped to her feet. Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy were both diving, and using the omniculars that she had kept from the World Cup, she looked down the pitch and saw the snitch fluttering close to the ground.

Draco Malfoy somehow pushed ahead by a hairbreadth and managed to grasp the snitch. The game was over. Slytherin had actually won against Gryffindor, although only by forty points. Cho and Zach exchanged startled glances, ignoring the throng of green-clad Slytherins raising up a storm.

"Good Lord! We'll be playing the Gryffindors for the cup!"

*          *          *

            Due to the Slytherin victory, Warrington and Malfoy were both unbearable during the next Prefect meeting. Malfoy harangued Hermione Granger to such a degree that the usually levelheaded girl drew her wand, and would have hexed the Slytherin had Cho and Hufflepuff Prefect Justin Finch-Fletchley not jumped in between them, both Quidditch players snatching Hermione and Draco's wands out of their hands. After that, and Charisse's unprecedented threat to put both Malfoy and Warrington under full body binds if they kept on crowing about Quidditch instead of discussing the issues at hand about posting O.W.L. schedules, the two Slytherins wisely shut their mouths, although with the way they swaggered about in the hallway for days afterward, Cho wished that Charisse _had_ put them in full body binds.

However, she had more important things to think about than strutting Slytherins. The Quidditch final loomed up ahead, and she was so... so _very_ close to completing her Animagus project that she could practically taste the success. Plus, finals were coming up fairly soon, and with two Advanced classes, they were bound to be difficult. Fleur was in an unusually good mood these days for some mysterious reason, but Professor McGonagall, she knew, had, and would always have, the highest possible expectations for her students. As for her other classes, well, being in sixth year, they would not be simple either. 

This weekend, she was sitting in the empty Prefects' office, trying to figure out her potions assignment when the door slammed open, and Charisse walked in, a big smile on her face. Cho looked up, bemused.

            "Did you just manage to charm Warrington's hair blue for a week? You look excited."

            "Oh, hush, you will be just as excited when you hear the news," Charisse plopped down right next to her, "Padma said that I would find you here. Well, Carl and I just had a meeting with Dumbledore to discuss Head Boy and Head Girl assignments for next year. And..." Charisse paused, grinning even wider, "You're to be Head Girl next year. Congratulations!"

            Cho sat very still for a second, owl-eyed, then leapt up and hugged Charisse exuberantly. Potions homework momentarily forgotten, she danced around the room for a few seconds, then hugged Charisse again. 

            "Chang, calm down. Do attempt not to break my eardrums with your infernal squealing." Warrington sauntered into the room, a bored expression on his face. Cho ran up to him, then hesitated for a moment. The much-bigger boy was looking down at her, one eyebrow raised, his expression clearly stating his doubt of her sanity. Shrugging, Cho grabbed him and squeezed him as well. Warrington stumbled backwards, then regained his balance and detached Cho from his person.

            "As much as I appreciate your sexual advances, Chang, shouldn't you either ask Weston to leave first? Unless, of course, you're in the mood for a threesome." 

            "_Sexual advances?!_" Cho scoffed, "Dream on, Warrington, you pervert."

            "I am _not_ a pervert. _You_ were the one to attack _me_. I am a Sex-God with a big broomstick. Make no mistake about it!"

            Cho and Charisse looked at each other, then at Warrington, and both started to snicker uncontrollably. Warrington glared at the two for a while, then sat down at the desk that Cho had vacated a few moments ago. He nonchalantly glanced at her half-finished potions essay and turned back to Cho.

            "You know, it's supposed to be two crushed sea urchin shells, not one, to neutralize the acidity of the potion. Unless you want it to eat a hole in your cauldron. And you call yourself a Ravenclaw…"

            Cho grabbed her parchment from the table and quickly scanned it over. Quickly fixing her mistake on the paper, she turned to Warrington and said, in a voice dripping with sarcasm, "Thank you, oh great Sex-God."

            Warrington bowed. Charisse took one look at him, and started laughing again.

*          *          *

            The Quidditch final was held on a warm spring day. Cho shook hands with Angelina Johnson before taking the air. Opposite her, she noticed Harry Potter, with a determined set to his chin. Nevertheless, he grinned back at her when she smiled at him. But only for a moment. Then, the balls were released and the game began.

            Cho spent her time listening to Lee Jordan's commentary to keep track of the points, and circling the pitch, looking for the Snitch. With the specific distribution of points, her team would have to be twenty points ahead before she could catch the Snitch in order to win the cup. She would have to hold Harry off the Snitch as well. 

            With a set look on her face, she took to performing diversionary tactics, zooming about in the air, cutting around Harry, fully aware that he could knock her off her broom if he so saw fit. Twice, she managed to hold him off the Snitch. The game was getting quite long, and the score stood even at 170/170. She continued circling the pitch, noticing with surprise that Carl Warrington, actually wearing blue, sat next to a wildly cheering Charisse in the stands. A moment later, she cheered as well when Su managed to score another shot. _Come on... one more... just one more._

            As if hearing her thoughts, David grabbed the Quaffle clean out of Alicia Spinnet's hands, and put another shot past Ginny Weasley. And then... a glimmer of gold, flittering close to the Gryffindor goal posts. Cho took off. 

            One of the Weasley twins hit a bludger her way, but she flattened herself down on her broom, and it soared over her head. Harry was gaining on her, his superior broom now nearly aligned with hers. She gritted her teeth and pushed still forward, tuning everything out except the spot of gold in front of her. Her lungs were starting to hurt at the speed she was going at, but she was getting closer... closer... she no longer heard... saw... knew anything except the Snitch, tantalizing her... closer and closer.

            She did not notice Angelina Johnson scoring one last shot.

            A moment later, she leaned forward, nearly off her broom, gripping it with her legs, and the Snitch fell into her outstretched hand. 

            Pandemonium ensued. Ravenclaw had won the game, but Gryffindor had won the cup by ten points. Cho stared, blankly, at the Snitch in her hand, then at the scoreboard, then at Angelina Johnson, who was receiving the Quidditch cup from Dumbledore, and slowly released the breath she had been holding, wincing at the stitch in her side. Then, slowly, dazedly, she walked off the field.

*          *          *

            Though they did not win the Quidditch cup, Ravenclaw's win of the game ensured that they won the House Cup for the first time in many, many years. Most of the Ravenclaws were gratified with this, and the rest of the houses seemed to have mixed views on it. The Hufflepuffs were, if nothing else, quite polite and kind about it. The Slytherins remarked that the Gryffindors were getting complacent, and the Gryffindors themselves looked at them with a new sort of wary but genuine respect. Cho was satisfied and proud, and Roger, despite the increasing Death Eater activity that he had to deal with at work, sent her an ecstatic letter when he had heard the news.

            And then it was time to go home. Cho found herself visited by many people in her train compartment, all the people that she knew who were graduating coming in to say goodbye. Zach gave her a brotherly hug before turning back to his crying-but-smiling girlfriend. All of the seventh year Prefects shook her hand, and then, Charisse walked in.

            "Cho!" the blonde girl sat down by Cho's side, "I'm so glad that I got to know you better this year," she said seriously. Cho grinned.

            "Well, it was a great year, wasn't it?" Charisse smiled back.

            "Certainly. Don't know what I could have done without someone to complain about Warrington to," she quipped. Cho laughed.

            "So glad to hear that I am so appreciated." Speak of the devil. Warrington strutted in, smirking true to form. He reached over and captured Cho, giving her a noogie despite her struggling to get out of his grasp. He turned to Charisse, not ceasing to noogie Cho all the while, and said casually, "Well, I'm off to play Reserve for the Falmouth Falcons. What about you?"

            "If I told you, I would have to kill you." Charisse replied immediately. Warrington rolled his eyes.

            "Whatever you say, Weston." He released Cho, who immediately turned around and punched him. "You punch like a girl, Chang. Better get some practice."

            Cho lifted her hands up to her hair, trying to straighten the mess that Warrington had made, and glared at him, "I'll keep that in mind, you big brute, and if I ever see you again, I'll be sure to 'practice' until you're black and blue."

            Warrington laughed and walked away. Cho turned to Charisse, "So, what _will_ you be doing?"

            Charisse was silent for a moment, "We'll see," she said evasively, "Anyway, keep in touch, all right? And... could you give me news of my brother now and then?"

            "Of course. I'll be in China this summer, but I'll try to owl you sometime. And I'll certainly keep in touch when I come back in the fall." She took out a mirror and looked at her hair. Still a mess. She scowled, "If you ever see Carl bloody Warrington around, slap him for me, please."

            Charisse laughed, and dug into her purse. She extracted a beautiful silver brush with a back in the shape of a scallop shell, and told Cho to turn around. Gently and deftly, she brushed the younger girl's hair until it was smooth, and replaited it in a neat braid. "There, it's all right now."

            Cho smiled, "Thanks. That's a beautiful brush, where did you get it?"

            Charisse's smile grew a little strained, "A present from my father." Before Cho could ask more, Charisse stood up, "Oh dear, I had better get back to Anthony. Keep in touch, all right?" She gave Cho a hasty wave, and walked out of the compartment.

*          *          *

"Sodding wanker!" Cho hissed to herself as she stomped down the garden path. Unladylike indeed! She'd show him "unladylike" if she were so unfortunate as to see him again, starting by breaking that long, sniffing nose with her broomstick. 

She had been in China for a week so far, and had been thoroughly enjoying herself until today. Today, her grandmother had a visitor, a snobby, chauvinistic wizard of middle age who wanted his son to be trained as a Shen-Wu Mage. Madame Chang had adamantly refused, saying that his son did not meet the qualifications. The man had not taken the hint to leave, and Cho had stepped up, addressing him in what she considered to be a civil voice, "Sir, perhaps if you sent your son to practice more until he can pass the qualifications, it would be better for all concerned."

The man had glared at her, wrinkling his nose, and proceeded to launch into a bombastic, sententious diatribe about unladylike young chits who didn't know their place. This had continued until Madame Chang, who, despite thinking that Cho's remark to the man _was_ slightly impertinent, believed that the man's tirade was far more impolite, had threatened to have her disciples throw him out if he did not have done and leave of his own accord. The man did so, muttering uncomplimentary things under his breath the whole time, and Cho had stormed outside in high dudgeon.

Suddenly, she heard a curious voice addressing her in Chinese, "What does 'sodding wanker' mean?"

Cho gave a start and turned around, blushing slightly. There stood a girl about fifteen years of age in a white Chinese tunic with blue piping at the Mandarin collar and white training slacks. Her long hair was put back in a severe-looking bun, somewhat like Professor McGonagall's, except held with two ebony chopsticks. "Hello, are you Madame Chang's granddaughter?"

Cho nodded, trying to place the girl. She was certainly wearing the training uniform of a Shen-Wu Mage, but looked too young for the part. As if reading her mind, the girl put her palm over her closed fist in greeting and smiled disarmingly at her, "It is an honor. My name is Jing-Li. Zhao Jing-Li. Madame Chang speaks highly of you."

"Thank you," Cho replied, then cautiously ventured, "Are you one of her disciples?"

"Of course; I've finished the first three levels of training." There was a faint note of pride and accomplishment in Jing-Li's voice. Cho looked at her strangely.

"You look no older than I am! But I thought that the rules say that you can't start training 'til you're eighteen."

"Well, that's because the rules are silly. They weren't going to let me in, but Madame Chang made an exception," Jing-Li said candidly. "So, you still have not explained what 'sodding wanker' means. Those are the first English words I have heard, and I want to learn."

"Erm… well…" Cho was at a loss for things to say, "It just so happens that it…er…I'm not sure that my grandmother would appreciate me teaching you such things."

"Any learning can be made useful;" Jing-Li grinned again, "I'm sure that I will use those words someday."

"Oh dear… a Shen-Wu Mage in a state of mind to use those words… I don't think I want to be present to witness the carnage," Cho murmured under her breath. Then, she grinned mischievously at the other girl, "All right, then. Jing-Li. I will teach you English. Now, repeat after me: 'Smeg!'"

*          *          *

            Heh. It's sooo fun to teach people foreign profanity, isn't it? Anyway, review!!


	6. Bloody Hell!

**NOTES:**

A new school year! What will it bring? Well, new students, for one thing, and continued appearances from old ones returning! How will Cho fare with her Head Girl duties?

**DEDICATION:**

This chapter is dedicated to the lovely Artemis-chan, whose feedback is invaluable and without whose encouragement, things would be much different than they are now! W00t!

**DISCLAIMER:**

Baaaaad things happen when fans try to have ownership of Harry Potter characters. You know how Mary Sue fics sprout up like poisonous fungi when someone tries to own Oliver Wood, Draco Malfoy, etc. etc. etc.? Therefore, any self-respecting author would not presume to say that (s)he owned what JKR created.

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'Til The End

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Cho did not see too much of the young disciple Jing-Li over the rest of her vacation. The girl practically trained non-stop. According to her grandmother, Zhao Jing-Li was a year younger than herself, but had shown a startling aptitude for the laborious vocation in school. The other Shen Wu Mages, on account of her young age, refused to train her, but the tenacious girl had kept up a steady barrage of requests, and finally, Cho's grandmother had been called back to deal with her. Madame Sai-Yu Chang, to the surprise of the other Mages of the league, not only consented to train her, but took a liking to the girl and had plans for her to become the top disciple when she had finished with all the levels of training. Needless to say, Jing-Li had been very grateful, and had set about her tasks and tests with a vigor and single-mindedness that Cho marveled at. However, with the brief time that they did spend in each other's company, Cho had managed to teach the younger girl a sizable amount of English profanity, and with the temper that Jing-Li evinced whenever someone insulted her about being a young female upstart in trying to be a Mage, she felt sure that the younger girl would, indeed, find time to use the words.

However, summer vacation quickly came to an end, and Cho once again found herself back home in Britain, going to Diagon Alley with her parents and purchasing the new things that she would be needing this term. As she was walking out of Flourish and Blotts, she met up with a beaming Fleur Delacour, hand-in-hand with a tall, cool-looking young man with long red hair. 

"Cho! 'Ow was your summer?" the blonde part-veela called out. Cho walked over with a smile.

"It was excellent, I spent most of it in China with my grandmother," Cho replied, looking curiously at the young man with Fleur. Something about him looked vaguely familiar…

"Say, weren't you at Hogwarts watching the Final Task at the Triwizard Tournament?" she blurted out, then blushed slightly, "Sorry; I'm Cho Chang, by the way."

The young man merely grinned in a friendly fashion at her, "Yes, you're right. I'm Bill Weasley." He held out a hand for her to shake, "You might know my brothers Ron, Fred, George and Percy."

"Yes, Fred and George graduated last year, didn't they? I remember them from Quidditch." Cho answered, "So, how long have you known each other?"

Fleur blushed slightly, "Well, when I came 'ere for work, zey sent me to stay wis ze Weasley family. So, we got to know each ozer…" her blush deepened slightly, and then, she grinned at Cho. "My leetle seester Gabrielle shall be going to 'Ogwarts zis year; you'll see 'er on ze train. She did not come to Diagon Alley today zough. She wanted to wait for 'Arry and 'Ermione to arrive at ze Burrow tomorrow and come wis zem. I am just 'ere to pick up some school supplies."

At that moment, a glance at the clock hanging over another shop told her that her parents would be waiting for her. "I have to go now," Cho hefted her purchases over her shoulder and prepared to leave, "Bye!"

Fleur waved, and something on her hand sparkled in the sunlight. Cho abruptly turned back and stared silently for a moment. Then, a big grin spread across her face, "Am I supposed to call you Professor Weasley now?"

*          *            *

One week later, Cho Chang boarded the Hogwarts Express and made her way up to the front compartment to join the rest of the Prefects. It was still rather early, so the only ones there were Hermione Granger, with her nose buried in a well-thumbed copy of _Advanced Calcular Theory: Differentimancy and Integrametics by Nouten I. Sachs, and Ginny Weasley and Justin Finch-Fletchley, sitting close together, heads bent over a game of Scrabble, which the latter was teaching the former how to play.  All three waved when she came in. Several moments later, they were joined by Draco Malfoy, who sneered at Hermione, but wisely kept his mouth shut. Cho addressed the blond Slytherin._

"Quidditch captain this year?"

Malfoy nodded and smirked, "We'll win this time around."

Cho smirked right back at him, "You just keep on thinking that, Malfoy." She turned to Ginny, "I'm assuming that Harry is captain this year as well?"

The petite redhead nodded, "Yes, we'll have to hold tryouts soon, we've so many positions open right now! I hope our team will be up to scratch this year."

"We're only short a Chaser. Isn't that the same with the Badgers, Justin?" 

"Yes, we'll probably move one of the reserves up, though. Depends on who made the most improvement over the summer," Justin replied with a smile. 

Gradually, the other Prefects, along with Head Boy and Hufflepuff captain Samuel McKinnon, started coming to the compartment. Everyone talked briefly, and decided to make the first Prefect meeting of the year on Wednesday evening after dinner. After that had been decided, everyone went about their own business, and several people started to leave the compartment. Hermione finished up her Arithmancy reading and stood up.

"Ginny, don't you think we should go and rescue Gabrielle from the boys?" she asked.

"Just a minute," Ginny murmured, "I want to finish this game with Justin." Hermione looked somewhat surprised. 

"Here, Hermione, I'll go with you. I saw Fleur in Diagon Alley, and she mentioned that her sister would be starting Hogwarts," Cho offered, straightening her robes and standing up.

"All right, then," Hermione nodded, standing up as well. The two girls walked out of the compartment, leaving Ginny and Justin to their own devices.

Cho followed the younger girl as she walked towards the back of the train. They walked until Hermione stopped at a compartment and opened up the door. Cho looked inside, and saw the back of Ron Weasley's head, and across from Ron, blushing slightly, with a cherubic-looking little girl clinging to his arm, sat Harry Potter. Everyone looked up as Hermione and Cho entered the compartment.

"Hello everyone," Cho greeted. Harry smiled and greeted her back politely. Ron turned directly to Hermione. 

"Where's my sister?"

Hermione shrugged, "She's still in the Prefects' compartment. Playing Scrabble with Justin."

The redheaded boy goggled at Hermione, "Are you _DAFT?! Leaving my poor, defenseless baby sister __ALONE with a __BOY?!" he sputtered. "She's only fifteen!"_

Hermione raised an eyebrow, "So? It's not like she's entirely helpless. She did grow up with six brothers, four of whom are total Quidditch fanatics. I daresay that she can take care of herself. Besides, I left her with Justin. It's not like I left her to Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle's tender mercies."

Ron looked a little sick at that idea, "But... what if Finch-Fletchley decides that he _fancies_ her or something? We can't have that!"

"Why not? He's a perfectly good sort, and he's a Prefect."

The two continued bickering amongst themselves. Cho smiled wryly and sat down next to the other two occupants of the compartment, "They do this a lot?" she asked Harry.

Harry chuckled and rolled his eyes, "It's all right. They know where the Astronomy Tower is, if they want to make up and snog." Gabrielle giggled, and Ron and Hermione paused in their little argument long enough to glare at Harry and tell him to shut up.

Cho laughed, then turned to the little girl, "So, Gabrielle, excited about going to Hogwarts?"

"Oui!" the little girl piped up, looking at Cho curiously, "You were wis me in ze lake two years ago, non?"

"Yes, I was. You've grown several inches taller since then." Cho smiled, "Which house do you think you will be sorted into?"

"I don't care, as long as I don't 'ave zat one wis ze overgrown bat as ze 'Ead of 'Ouse," Gabrielle said candidly. Cho laughed.

"Just don't let Professor Snape hear you calling him that, all right?"

"I won't!" Gabrielle smiled beatifically, "What's your name? You know mine, but I don't know yours."

"Oh, I'm Cho. Cho Chang. I'm your Head Girl this year, if you need any help with anything."

Gabrielle nodded, looking at her for a moment before turning back to Harry. "'Arry, you should grow your 'air out like Cho's, zen put it in a braid. It would be vairy pretty and much less messy zat way."

Laughter echoed throughout the train compartment. 

*          *            *

_Owl from C. Chang to R. Davies, 4 September_

_Roger,_

_            I hope that you had no lasting romantic interests in Fleur Delacour, because she's Fleur Delacour no more! She married Bill Weasley (eldest brother of the Weasley twins who used to be Beaters on the Gryffindor team) over the summer, and is quite over the moon about it. However, she has managed something that thus far had not been accomplished, and is still teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts this year. She sends her regards. Her little sister Gabrielle has started at Hogwarts, and has been sorted into Ravenclaw House, along with three other girls and two boys. _

_            The first Prefect meeting was yesterday. It's quite interesting how different things are depending on who is in charge. Certainly less nonsense goes on without Warrington as Head Boy! But Catherine Whitby from Hufflepuff and Colin Creevey from Gryffindor keep things interesting with their antics. I swear, it is almost like having a slightly diluted version of the Weasley twins sometimes! _

_            This is the third consecutive year that a Ravenclaw has been Head Girl. First, there was Penny Clearwater. Then, there was Charisse Weston, and now, me. However, I daresay that next year, Hermione Granger of Gryffindor will get the job. No matter, she'll perform admirably. For one thing, she got the highest O.W.L. scores in the last fifty years. _

_            Aside from the aforementioned Catherine Whitby and Colin Creevey, the newest Prefects all seem to be a serious, dedicated bunch. Ginny Weasley and Justin Finch-Fletchley sometimes fail to pay attention to announcements, because they keep on glancing at each other (hmmm....), but as they mean and have done no harm, I can forgive them... usually. Besides, the two of them, from what I hear, get more than their share of death glares already from Ginny's brother Ron, who seems to believe very firmly that his sister is not to look at or be looked at by any male of her generation outside of family until she has reached approximately the same age as Professor McGonagall. _

_            Quidditch tryouts are going to take place next week. As I have my own quarters and have not been in the Ravenclaw common room very frequently this year, I have no idea how many will show up, but I have posted up the notice. Let's hope that we get a competent Chaser this year! With Zach gone off to work for the Department of Experimental Charms, we're one player short. _

_            I've received one letter from Charisse. She seems to be keeping herself busy, although she has been markedly vague in talking about what it is that she does. I wonder..._

_            I hope that things are going as well as they could for you. Keep your head held high, and remember that, if nothing else, we will always have each other for support and friendship. Keep in touch when you can!_

_Yours,_

_Cho_

*          *            *

            Three people showed up for Chaser tryouts. Sixth year Stephen Cornfoot, third year Stewart Ackerley, and second year Una Markham were all standing on the pitch, alert and ready, when Cho and the rest of the Ravenclaw team arrived. The first two were looking calm, somewhat hopeful, but the small second year girl was practically bouncing in excitement, bright green eyes sparkling with anticipation. She waved cheerfully at Cho, who grinned and waved back.

            Stephen tried first, and did a tolerable job. However, he rather lacked the speed and energy that was required for the position. After his tryout, he shrugged, and sat down in the stands to watch the remaining two contenders. 

            Stewart, though certainly fast, did not aim very accurately, nor catch the Quaffle when Su or David passed it to him often and quickly enough. Cho gave him an apologetic look, but he merely walked back to the castle.

            Una, on the other hand, eagerly accepted the Nimbus 2000 handed her, clambered on with the ease of someone who knew exactly what she was doing, and not only performed seamlessly as a team with the other two chasers, but managed to do several rather astonishing aerial acrobatics in the meantime, as she artfully dodged the bludgers. When she dismounted ten minutes later, everyone cheered. The small girl blushed.

            Cho stepped forward, smiling. "Welcome to the team, Una! That was brilliant!"

            "Thank you," Una said happily; "I spent part of the summer at Yumiko's house. Mr. Sato works at Quality Quidditch supplies, you know, and they have lots of broomsticks at their house. But Yumiko is afraid of heights, so she let me fly on her broomstick."

            "Well, you did an excellent job! With practice, you'll become a real credit to the team." Cho packed away the Quidditch supplies in the broom shed, and walked alongside the younger girl back to the castle. 

            Una grinned, green eyes dancing, "I hope so! We better beat Slytherin again this year, there are just some people in that house that are utterly intolerable to have around unless they're getting their arses kicked."

            Cho chuckled wryly, "By 'some people', I'm assuming you're referring to Anthony Weston."

            "Well... of course! He's a prat." Una wrinkled her nose.

            "Perhaps. But who knows, he might change for the better in the future," Cho suggested. Una shook her head adamantly.

            "No. He wouldn't be Anthony Weston if he weren't a snarky bugger." 

Cho laughed, "If you say so."

*          *            *

_Owl from R. Davies to C. Chang 16 September_

_Cho,_

_            So, Fleur is married? Good for her! Give her my congratulations next time you see her. And no, I do NOT have any lasting feelings for her. But Bill Weasley is a lucky man. _

_            Today, we were able to learn from an informant that the Dark Lord is going to attack the household of a Muggle family. You might know their son, Dean Thomas. If I recall correctly, he's a Gryffindor Prefect. However, we're ready for them. A group of Aurors have already been stationed around their house, and several others will join them on the planned day of the attack. It's a blessing that we have these informants who, at great risk to their own safety, are willing to find out for us the plans of the Death Eaters._

_            I'm very glad that you found a replacement for Zach. If I see him, I'll let him know. This just shows that Muggleborns are no less talented than purebloods when it comes to magic, and it's really too bad that there are many in the Ministry who can't see this._

_            I would make this letter longer, but there is no time right now. I must go now; wish me luck!_

_Yours,_

_Roger_

*          *            *

            The first Quidditch game of the year took place on a windy November day. Slytherin was playing Hufflepuff, and Cho and the rest of the Ravenclaw team were watching in the stands. 

            Next to Cho, small hands wrapped around a cup of hot cocoa, sat Una Markham. The younger girl had her eyes glued on the pitch, where any moment now, would be filled with players from the two teams. "I wonder who they're going to have to replace Warrington and Nott," she mused quietly. Cho shrugged.

            "Whoever they are, they're probably fairly young. But I guess we'll see. You, as a Chaser, should pay especial attention to whom they're playing as Keeper, and how good he or she is."

            Una nodded, but before she could say anything else, the sound of rushing air filled their ears as the Quidditch players started zooming onto the pitch. They watched as Draco Malfoy shook hands with Paul McKinnon, and then, as both captains took their places in the air. The whistle blew, and the game began. 

            Susan Bones captured the Quaffle almost immediately, dodged a bludger from Millicent Bulstrode, and shot towards the goals. She aimed, lightning fast… Cho was sure that she would score…

            But the dark-headed form of the new Keeper seemed to zoom from nowhere, blocking her shot. Cho's eyes widened, and next to her, she heard Una give a little shriek, "Blimey!"

            The girl had a pair of omniculars up to her eyes, and she was staring fixedly at the Keeper, mouth agape. Cho immediately lifted her own omniculars and looked in the same direction, focusing in on the new Keeper. As if he felt their eyes on them, the Keeper smirked as he blocked another shot, this time from new Hufflepuff chaser Emma Dobbs. 

            He was none other than Anthony Weston. Charisse's younger brother. The one who called Una a mudblood and as far as Cho could tell, would grow up to become the type of person that Roger was probably trying to capture at that very moment.

            Una's statement a moment later captured her sentiments exactly.

            "Bloody hell!"

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            All right! And we have both Anthony and Una playing Quidditch! This should be fun, when they're up against each other… heh. And yes, the Ravenclaw/Slytherin game will be one of the legendary ones... I promise! But that's for the next chapter. REVIEW!!


	7. Potions Pandemonium and Crucial Conversa...

**NOTES:**

And here is Chapter 7, in which Ravenclaw and Slytherin face off in a highly memorable game, Cho takes her N.E.W.T.s and perfects an important ability, and several important discussions take place.

**DEDICATION:**

This chapter is dedicated to Angela, the strongest person I know, and I'm not talking about how much she can bench. Keep your chin up, darling! 

**DISCLAIMER:**

            If I owned Roger Davies, do you think I would have the _time_ to write fanfiction?!

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'Til The End

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            Despite the increasing chaos of the outside world, life at Hogwarts was more or less the same as ever. Cho's life was still fairly routine, going through Advanced classes and Quidditch and Head Girl duties with a set face. It was only at nighttimes, when she was writing to Roger, that she would allow the worries to show.

            Roger's letters, though honest, were still somewhat diluted retellings of what was going on out there in the real world. Although they were a more reliable source of information than the now blatantly hush-hush reportings of the Daily Prophet, Cho knew that he pruned the worst of everything from his correspondence with her, both to try to prevent her from undue distress, and to protect the both of them. Too much information could be dangerous; as a Ravenclaw, this she knew all too well. 

            From his letters, it seemed that the mysterious informant that he and the other Aurors were getting their information from was quite competent. Due to the reports of "Insider", the Aurors had been able to prevent the murders of several families of Muggleborn witches and wizards, among them those of current students Dean Thomas, Una Markham, Hermione Granger and Justin Finch-Fletchley, and alumna Penelope Clearwater. However, the fact remained that the Death Eaters were becoming more and more audacious, and several times, he and others would have to salvage, heal and memory-charm the unfortunate ones. Cho, after reading about a particularly gruesome incident in which an elderly Muggle woman had been within inches of being force-fed a poisonous draught of bitter almonds for sport before the Death Eater rally had been broken up by Aurors, wished fervently that something... anything... would happen as a distraction. Something that would occupy her mind... and hopefully something humorous so that she could tell it to Roger, and perhaps, just perhaps, induce a smile on his face. 

            Perhaps those with veela blood could read minds and desires, for a distraction of exactly that type would happen sooner than she thought.

*           *            *

            One day about a week before the Quidditch Final between Ravenclaw and Slytherin was to take place, Gabrielle Delacour stomped over to the Ravenclaw table in high dudgeon. Several students edged back; despite her small size and very young age, Gabrielle was not a quarter-veela for nothing, and, with the livid wrath blazing in her eyes, she looked every bit a dangerous force to be reckoned with. 

            Cho, concerned, walked over to the first-year girl, and bravely laid a hand on her shoulder. "Are you all right, Gabrielle? What happened, did someone pick on you?"

            "Oui!" Gabrielle raged. "Ze 'ateful, 'aughty..." she hissed something very irate-sounding in French. 

            Cho patted her shoulder and said in a soothing voice, "There, there. Tell me who it is, and what he or she did. I'm Head Girl, you know. I can make them have a detention with Filch."

            This did nothing to cheer up the younger girl. "No, zat won't 'elp any. It is not a student."

            "Then, who is it?"

"Ze professor zat is popularly known as ze overgrown bat...'e is jealous zat my seester 'as ze Defense post, and zerefore, decided to take it out on me today. Quel merde! It is not like _I_ am responsible for ze fact zat 'e can't get ze job 'e wants! Besides, 'e 'ad no right to call Fleur and myself flashy bits of robe wis no brains 'oo only managed to succeed in anysing because we entranced ze ones around us! Maudit batârd! Just because I added 'alf an ounce extra of crushed cattail to ze potion today... it didn't even 'ave any adverse effects! Zat stupid Slyzerin shrew, Peony Parkinson, _'er_ potion blew up and splattered all over ze floor, and 'e said nosing!" Suddenly, Gabrielle's eyes took on a diabolical gleam, "'E will pay..."

            Cho's eyes widened in alarm, "Now, Gabrielle, don't do anything that your brothers-in-law Fred and George might do..."

            Gabrielle smiled adorably, "Oh, don't worry... of course I won't. I am just going to prove to Professor Snape zat I can brew a flawless potion." Saying so, the little blonde girl turned to her lunch, looking every bit like a little angel. Cho sighed to herself.

            "Why do I have a really, _really_ bad feeling about this?"

*           *            *

            Nothing unusual happened to either Gabrielle or Professor Snape for the next few days, and Cho calmed down somewhat. She noticed a besotted Wallace Carstairs begging Professor Sprout for a red rose from the hothouse for Gabrielle, but chalked it up to the second-year Ravenclaw boy's infatuation with the pretty quarter-veela child. The Ravenclaw/Slytherin Quidditch Final loomed up ahead, and Cho was more concerned about that than about the behavior of several love-struck younger boys. Although, to be sure, seeing a usually-surly but now similarly smitten Slytherin second-year by the name of Morris Fenton handing the small blonde girl a small vial of what looked suspiciously like pigeon's blood filched from Snape's private stores caused her to be slightly worried. 

            However, when Professor Snape showed up seemingly quite healthy and normal on the day of the Quidditch game, sitting with the Slytherin supporters and wearing green like the rest of them, holding a cup of what looked like coffee, she left her worries and went to have a last word with her team.

            After she had made sure that everyone was clear on the planned tactics and that Una had indeed gotten the Hawkshead Attacking Formation down pat, Cho landed in the middle of the field to shake hands with Draco Malfoy. This year, now that Lee Jordan had left, the commentary was made by a Hufflepuff third year by the name of Owen Caulfield, who was far more subdued than his predecessor. Professor McGonagall, who had seemingly had enough of Lee's antics, had combed through the lists of students until lighting upon the mild-mannered Owen. He was fairly good, as far as commentators went, with a good knowledge of Quidditch terminology and so on, although far less interesting than Lee had been.

            Soon, the game began, and Cho was quite gratified to see Una capture the Quaffle immediately, and zoom off towards the Slytherin goal posts with the red ball in tow. Usually, it was the Seeker who was the smallest player on a team, but here, Una used her tiny size to great advantage, as she swerved gracefully and cleanly around the Slytherin players to reach the goals. Anthony Weston, crouched in front of the center hoop, watched her approach, a challenge clearly seen within his narrowed blue eyes. Una matched his glare with one of her own, and shifted from side to side on her broomstick, as if uncertain which goal to fire the Quaffle in. Just as it seemed that Malcolm Baddock, the new Slytherin Chaser, might grab the Quaffle from her hands, she fired, and scored. The Ravenclaw supporters cheered, and Anthony scowled darkly at Una, who stuck her tongue out at him before whizzing off again.

            However, despite that first goal, it was quite apparent that the new Slytherin Keeper would be far harder to bypass than Nott had been. Cho speculated that Anthony must have done quite a lot of flying in his youth, for his skills were quite remarkable for someone so young. About two hours into the game, the score stood at 90/70, in favor of Slytherin, when all of the sudden, Owen's commentary was cut off abruptly in mid-sentence, and everyone, startled, looked over abruptly towards the commentator stand. 

            The Hufflepuff third year looked petrified, as Professor Snape, a rather peculiar look upon his face, grabbed the magical megaphone from his hands, and put it up to his mouth. And all of the sudden, he bellowed out, in a voice that was very loud and very different from his usual lethally soft hiss, a Shakespearean sonnet, of all things!

            _The forward violet thus did I chide,_

_            Sweet thief, whence didst thou steal thy sweet that smells,_

_            If not from my love's breath? The purple pride_

_            Which on thy soft cheek for complexion dwells,_

_            In my love's veins thou hast too grossly dyed._

_            The lily I condemned for thy hand;_

_            And buds of marjoram had stol'n thy hair._

_            The roses fearfully on thorns did stand_

_            One blushing shame, another white despair;_

_            A third, nor red nor white, had stol'n of both,_

_            And to his robbery had annext thy breath;_

_            But, for his theft, in pride of all his growth_

_            A vengeful canker eat him up to death._

_                        More flowers I noted, yet I none could see_

_                        But sweet or color it had stol'n from thee._

            As this most extraordinary pronouncement was being made, the potions master was walking towards the Quidditch pitch, running down anyone who was standing in his path. By the time he was finished with the poem, he was standing in front of a bewildered but wildly amused Madam Hooch, the magical megaphone still in hand.

            "Imogene Hooch, you are a goddess of beauty, love and all that is good on this forlorn planet! Say that you love me, give me some hope that you return a measure of the adoration that I bear towards you!"

            Hooch covered her ears from the strident, magnified voice coming from the megaphone. The Slytherin players, up in the air, blushed twenty different shades of crimson in abject mortification as the game came to a dead standstill. The other staff members seemed to be torn between shock, mortification and guilty amusement. Dumbledore quietly took out his wand, and cast a muting charm upon Snape, before summoning the magical megaphone and handing it back to a red-faced Owen Caulfield, who was about to choke from suppressed laughter.

            And at that moment, Cho Chang chanced to look downward, and saw a glimmer of gold close to the ground by where Snape, who had snapped out of his little trance and very bewildered as to what he was doing there in front of Madam Hooch, who was practically rolling on the ground with mirth, and also why he had no voice to ask what had happened, was standing. Pushing forward, she dove for the Snitch. Draco Malfoy, still holding his head in his hands at the highly humiliating situation that his Head of House had somehow gotten himself into, did not see the Snitch nor the rival Seeker in hot pursuit of it until Cho was about halfway there. And then, despite his best efforts, Cho was too far ahead to catch up with. Ravenclaw won 220/90, and the game ended in an uproar.

            Cho, doing a victory lap around the pitch, still giggling over the highly unorthodox but highly entertaining interruption in the middle of the game, chanced to fly by the Gryffindor stands, and saw the angelically smiling Gabrielle waving at her as she sat in Harry Potter's lap. The Gryffindor Seeker, Ginny and Ron were all convulsing with laughter, and even Hermione was biting her lip in an effort not to laugh. And all through it, Gabrielle, the lone Ravenclaw amongst her Gryffindor friends, smiled beatifically to herself. Her words about showing Snape that she could brew a flawless potion played themselves over again in Cho's head.

            "Oh dear..."

*           *            *

            The next few days, understandably, Professor Snape was in so foul a mood that no one, even the Slytherins, dared to put one toe out of line in his classes. Hermione was late to the next Prefect meeting.

            "Snape forced Harry, Ron and I to drink Veritaserum to see if we were the ones responsible somehow for that showing at the Quidditch game. Of course, we were not, but Ron happened to say 'No, I didn't do it, and I don't know who did it, but serves you right for being such a biased, greasy git'." The sixth year Prefect sighed, and everyone else laughed, "Honestly…"

            However, life went on, and Cho continued in the cycle of classes, preparing for N.E.W.T.s, Prefect duties, her correspondence with Roger and Charisse, and her Animagus project. The last took up quite a chunk of her evenings, but she was so… so very close. The meditation required to make the initial transformation was taxing, but she kept at it, hoping that perhaps soon, she would be able to master it.

            Finally, one night an hour after dinner, she felt the onset of change, a rush of heat, as she sat alone in her Head Girl quarters. Sweat beaded her brow, and a surge of power rushed through her limbs. The room started to swirl… Cho gritted her teeth. Something was happening… something dizzying… Finally, the spinning stopped, and Cho's eyes snapped open. Her vision… it was… different. Sharper. She could see the room and all it contained in sharp relief despite the darkness. She glanced down, and saw, instead of her hands, two dainty black paws. She sprang forward, on all fours, until she reached her dresser, and somehow, leapt nimbly onto the top to gaze into the mirror. A small, furry cat's face with a pair of dark but fiery eyes gazed back at her. She had succeeded! At long last! Exultant, she bounded down from the top of the dresser, and transformed back to her human form mid-bound. 

            "In the words of Ron Weasley, this is bloody brilliant!"

           Samuel McKinnon, when he got back to the Head Boy/Head Girl quarters from Quidditch practice, did not see any sign of Cho Chang anywhere. Her room was empty, although her things were all still there. Shrugging, he assumed that she was off on Prefect rounds, and shut the door of his room, pulling out his homework.

            "Too bad Cho's not here, this Transfiguration is bloody impossible."

*           *            *

            Cho was, in fact, not doing any Prefect duties of any sort. A small black cat was scampering gaily down the halls of Hogwarts, springing swiftly from stairwell to statuary, basking in her newfound power and agility. The cat hopped down a staircase, frolicked in the halls... this was glorious! Something so very useful and difficult, but so much fun as well!

            She was having such a time cavorting down the hallway, that she did not see an enormous ginger cat until it was almost directly in her face. Alarmed, she stopped mid-leap, and stared at the cat, which she recalled as being Hermione's.

            _'So you must be the Head Girl who my mistress's best friend used to be so infatuated with.'_

            "WHAT?!" Cho was sure that, had she been in human form, she would have shouted and summoned Filch in an instant. The ginger cat looked at her in amusement.

            _'Oh, you know exactly of whom it is I speak. The boy with the green eyes and the lightning shaped scar on his forehead, whose godfather I tried to help. Ah well... perhaps in time, you will be able to help him. He is like you, with the same skill.'_

            "Harry? He has a godfather?" Cho thought in surprise. The ginger cat must have understood, for it purred.

            _'Yes, nice enough, if a bit impetuous. But then, my mistress's love is much worse. Oh well, at least his current pet is not a traitor in disguise. You will probably understand some day, Head Girl. But you had better go, the footsteps approaching and the smell... that is the caretaker you all hate so much, and his cat. Now... nothing wrong with that cat, she's like my mistress. Neat, clean, and doesn't like to break the rules. Quite attractive, too. But she will recognize you for what you are, and you do want to keep that Head Girl badge. Best make a run for it.'_

            Cho, bewildered, scampered off. Did she just have a telepathic conversation with a _CAT_? Then, she recalled her research... Animagi, while transformed, could communicate with other animals. She ran back towards the Head Boy/Head Girl quarters, transformed back into her human form, and grinned widely as she uttered the password to the portrait and walked in.

            Samuel McKinnon heard her entrance and walked out of his room. "'Lo there, Cho. Say, d'you think you could help me out with this Transfiguration assignment? It's so bloody complicated!" the Head Boy sighed, "Wish we didn't have to take this class..."

            "Whatever are you talking about?! Transfiguration rules!"

*           *            *

            The rest of the year passed fairly quickly, and Cho graduated in a haze of glory. Head Girl, top-grade N.E.W.T.s with a perfect score in Transfiguration, a Quidditch cup under her belt. As she, Certificate of Graduation in hand, walked off the stage to greet her family and friends, she saw, in the audience, sitting next to her mother, a face whom she had not expected to see, but whose presence just made her day that much brighter.

            Running forward, dark hair flying behind her like a banner of black silk, she threw herself into his waiting arms. He hugged her warmly, a deep chuckle reverberating in his throat. "Congratulations, Cho."

            "Roger! How in the world did you get here?!"

            "Well, let's see... I Apparated to the gates just like everyone else, then walked in," he deadpanned, "Just in time to find your mother, who was nice enough to save me a seat." He pulled away from her, holding her at arm's length, and looked down at her, blue eyes meeting brown, "You've certainly done well, how have you been?"

            "Splendid! We won the Quidditch cup this year! Although..." Cho laughed slightly, "It was under rather... interesting circumstances..."

            Roger chuckled, "Yes, I remember. Gabrielle seems to be quite the feisty one, doesn't she?"

            "Oh, yes. Snape was furious, but he never did figure out who did it. Fleur didn't know what to think; I think she took off five points for Gabrielle's impertinent behavior, but if I recall correctly, Ginny Weasley gave Gabrielle ten points on the sly for 'creativity in potion-brewing'."

            Cho's mother caught up with the rapidly reminiscing friends, and beamed down at her daughter, "Congratulations, Cho."

            Cho turned and embraced her mother as well, "Thank you, Mother."

            Mrs. Chang looked from her daughter, to Roger Davies, and back. "Cho, your father and I have much shopping to do; we are having a feast with the family tonight to celebrate. Now, if you would like, you can have lunch at the Leaky Cauldron with your friend, and floo back home in the afternoon from Diagon Alley. Would you like that?"

            "Oh, yes! That would be great! Don't you agree, Roger? We have so much catching up to do! I haven't seen you since the Ravenclaw/Slytherin game my sixth year!"

            Roger nodded in agreement, and Mrs. Chang handed Cho a handful of Galleons. "Do not be too late, we will be making Peking roast duck tonight. Have an enjoyable afternoon!" Saying so, the older witch Disapparated, leaving Roger and Cho standing by the Hogwarts gates.

            Roger turned to Cho, grinning, "All right, are you ready to go, milady?" he offered her his hand. Cho took it and smiled.

            "Of course."

            A moment later, he had Disapparated them both away.

*           *            *

            They appeared in Diagon Alley a moment later, still hand-in-hand. For once, Roger set aside his worries about work, and just enjoyed walking with Cho, enjoying her company and the balmy June weather. She had not changed much since the last time he had seen her. An inch taller, perhaps, her hair still longer, the long plait now nearly to her thighs. Silken wisps of it escaped the loose braid and fluttered about as she walked, occasionally brushing against his hand, which still held hers gently. She was a beautiful, talented girl, and she would have a happy life. Yes, he would make sure of it.

            They reached the Leaky Cauldron and ordered a booth close to the back. As they waited for their lunch to arrive, Roger asked Cho if she knew what she would do now that she had graduated.

            "Well, of course, I have to get my Apparition License. I'm scheduled for the test in July. Beyond that... well," Cho suddenly lowered her voice, "I have received two job offers."

            "Oh?"

            "The first one... that's the one that almost everyone has been encouraging me to take," Cho said confidentially, "the Montrose Magpies' Seeker is retiring, and they're looking for a replacement. They actually offered to give me, not a Reserve position, but the real position, right off, with an extremely high pay."

            "That's great!" Roger said more brightly than he felt. True, he knew better than anyone else just how brilliant a Seeker Cho was. But... to become a Quidditch player for a few seasons, earn a load of money, then live a life of indolence? That just didn't seem to... fit. It seemed like a waste somehow...

            "The other... well, The Department of Mysteries... they contacted me." Cho lowered her voice to a very soft whisper, and he had to lean forward to catch her words, "You know that I've successfully completed my Animagus transformation. They want me to become an Unspeakable."

            Roger froze. Cho continued, "It's top-secret, really. They would not even register me. I would be an agent. An informant. Because it would be easier for me to get information in my other form, than as a human."

            "And?" Roger didn't know what to think. On the one hand, the first job seemed like... a waste of sorts. On the other, the second job was so incredibly dangerous... "Which one are you thinking of choosing?"

            Cho rolled her eyes, "Come on, this is me we're talking about. What do you think?" Suddenly, she grew serious, and said softly, "I chose the second one, of course."

            "Oh." Roger frowned slightly, "You do know that the risks involved are..."

            "Of course I know!" Cho said, a slight note of exasperation in her voice, "It's almost bloody suicide, come to think of it, but... we all need to do what's right." She reached across the table, and took his sun-browned, callused palm in her small ones, "You're very brave to do what you do, Roger. I want to be brave with you."

            It was a few moments before Roger spoke. "I see.... but... you do know that it's dangerous. I'll worry. So will your parents."

            Cho merely smiled wryly at him, "How do you think _I_ felt for the past two years every time you owled?"

~          ~            ~            *            *            *            ~            ~            ~

w00t! A LONG chapter!! More to come soon! Review!!!


	8. Fury, Thy Name is Woman!

**NOTES:**

All right! Here is Chapter 8, in which Cho and someone else spend a most interesting and eventful day touring Wizarding Britain, lots of males are guilty of rude behavior, and several old acquaintances make appearances! 

**DEDICATION:**

            This chapter is dedicated to the fantabulous Lyta Padfoot, because this fic was inspired by her challenge. 

**DISCLAIMER:**

            All your base are belong to us. But all the Harry Potter are belong to Rowling.

~          ~          ~          *           *           *           ~          ~          ~

'Til The End

~          ~          ~          *           *           *           ~          ~          ~

            "Cho!" A voice greeted her as she Apparated into her parents' home. Cho looked up, and her face split into a large grin.

            "Grandmother!" Cho greeted the elderly woman, "_Nin__ hao!_"

            "Hello to you as well, my granddaughter," Madame Sai-Yu Chang stepped forward and looked appraisingly at her granddaughter, "You are all grown up. Now, you can Apparate, and you have graduated."

            "Yes, that's true," Cho smiled, then saw a figure in Mage robes sitting behind her grandmother. A young woman, black hair in a bun held by two chopsticks. It couldn't be...

            "Jing-Li?!"

            The young woman stepped forward slowly, and gave Cho a smile, "You remember me?"

            "Of course! You were the one who was studying the Mage Arts from my grandmother that summer after my sixth year! What are you doing here?"

            "She has finished her training, top of her class." Cho's grandmother beamed and patted the younger woman's hand, "It had been decided by the Chinese Ministry that she would be the first one sent over here. She will learn the conditions of the land, and then, in the next year, the others will follow, and they shall set up a league with her as leader."

            "Oh! Congratulations, then! You know, most witches and wizards your age around here are still in school!" Cho informed the younger girl. Jing-Li grinned.

            "I know. Same in China, really, but I wanted to learn as much as I could in as short time as possible. Now I just need to learn to speak the language and the way around this country."

            "And she needs a place to stay. With the role that she has, she cannot allow her status to be exposed to the public." Cho's mother had Apparated in at the tail end of the conversation, "At least, for the first half a year, until she is accustomed to the ways around here. We have decided to let her stay with us, under the guise that she is a visiting cousin. Since you will be moving out, Cho, she can stay in your room with Grandmother."

            Cho nodded, deep in thought for a few moments. Then, she smiled brilliantly, "I have a better idea."

*           *           *

            A week later, Cho's move-in to her new flat was finished, and that evening, her and her new flat-mate decided that, after the long, involved process of moving in, it was high time to spend the warm summer day touring the various places of Wizarding Britain.

            And so it was, two Chinese witches, one in white robes, the other in a red Chinese tunic with black piping, flooed into Diagon Alley. 

            Diagon Alley, as always at this time of the year, was an extremely busy, bustling place. Though they did not really have much that they needed to buy, Cho brought Jing-Li around with her for a tour of all the shops. The younger girl was quite inquisitive, asking her in Chinese about all of the things around them, and comparing them with wizarding goods available in China. The two of them saw several students in the shops, getting their school supplies. Cho met up with Harry Potter, the two youngest Weasley children, Hermione Granger, the newest Head Girl, and Gabrielle Delacour in Flourish and Blotts. 

            "'Ello, Cho!" Gabrielle had been the first one to see her. Cho turned around and greeted the little girl.

            "Gabrielle! How has your summer been?"

            "Fine, sank you," the little girl grinned, "I 'ave been getting letters from ze boys at school. Zey admire me vairy much, I sink."

            Cho laughed, "Oh, you're too young to be a heartbreaker, wait a few years."

            "Oh, no, not _zat_ type of letter," Gabrielle wrinkled her nose slightly, "Zey admire me because I 'ave been ze only person 'oo 'as gotten away wis outsmarting zat Professor Snape." She caught sight of Jing-Li, "'Oo is zat?"

            "She's a cousin from China who is visiting me," Cho said without skipping a beat, "Her name is Zhao Jing-Li."

            Introductions were made, and the group talked for a while, with Hermione asking questions to Jing-Li about Chinese wizardry and asking the Chinese girl to evaluate the differences between the two nations. Jing-Li had just finished describing the finer points of incense making, when another familiar voice sounded at the door, calling for "Gabrielle, 'Arry, Ron, and 'Ermione." Cho swiveled around and grinned widely.

            "Fleur!" It was indeed Fleur. She looked radiant as usual, dressed in loose, flowing blue robes. Cho, however, immediately noticed something different about the part-veela. She glanced from Fleur, to the beaming Bill Weasley who had his arms around the former's waist. Fleur's robes were slightly tight about the midsection. "Oh my goodness! You're expecting! Congratulations!"

            "Sank you," Fleur blushed somewhat, "I am about five mons along. It will be a girl."

            Cho congratulated the parents-to-be, and introduced her 'cousin' once more. Bill looked at her rather shrewdly.

            "I hear that China will be sending over Mages to help aid our Aurors here. Would your cousin know if that were the case?"

            Cho's eyes widened, and she glanced rather nervously at Bill. But the young man simply winked at her, indicating that he knew, probably from his family's ministry connections. She gave a rather vague answer, he changed the subject, and soon, that group departed for home. Cho and Jing-Li exited Flourish and Blotts, and headed for the Leaky Cauldron for lunch.

            Tom greeted Cho cordially as she walked in, Jing-Li right behind her. "'Lo there, Miss Chang!"

            "Hi, Tom. A table for two, please."

            "A table for two? Right this way!" The bartender led the two young women to a table close to the back. The two sat down, and Cho picked up a menu.

            "Jing-Li, I think that I shall have to introduce you to western cuisine," Cho said solemnly, "Choose whatever you want on the menu, as long as you make sure to ask for a slice of cheesecake at the end of the meal. Then, you can't possibly go wrong."

            The other grinned, and quipped, "As long as everything can be eaten with chopsticks, I think that it shall be all right." Then, all of the sudden, the younger woman stilled, "Someone is coming, who exudes of darkness, and someone else, who is of yet uncertain." Cho raised an eyebrow in confusion.

            A moment later, footfalls signaling the arrival of two people could be heard, and two tall, silver-blond individuals swept to the next table. One of them was older, with harsher lines to his face, and eyes cold as chips of gray ice. The other's face, though similarly angular, had slightly more animated features and a hint of blue in his eyes, and though his patrician, handsome features were twisted into a sardonic _expression, it was not a downright cruel one, like the former's. The latter was quite young, about eighteen years of age, and wore a silver badge on his black Hogwarts robes. The older man talked briefly to the younger for a moment, then swept out, leaving a handful of Galleons on the table. Jing-Li watched him leave, then turned to Cho.

            "Who are they?" she asked Cho in Chinese. Cho glanced over, and caught the younger man's eye. He gave her a smirk, then noticed her companion. The young man stood up, and sauntered over. Cho and Jing-Li stood up.

            "Chang," he said civilly and coolly.

            "Malfoy," Cho returned his greeting with equal brevity, "I see that you are to be the new Head Boy. Congratulations."

            "Why, thank you," Draco drawled, "And who is this here with you?"

            "My cousin, Jing-Li," Cho said, for not the first time in the course of the day, "She is visiting from China." Draco nodded slowly, and held out a hand. Jing-Li glanced at him in hesitation for a second, then placed her own hand in his. Draco looked at her long and hard for a few moments, then brought her hand to his lips and placed a light kiss on her knuckles, all the while looking at her challengingly, as if waiting to see her lose her composure.

            Jing-Li merely quirked an eyebrow at him as she gave him a curt nod. Cho caught a fleeting look of surprise in the Slytherin's face before his customary sneer was back in place. "A pleasure," he drawled, before walking back to his own table. Cho and Jing-Li ignored him for the most part for the rest of their lunch.

            Jing-Li did enjoy the cheesecake. As they paid for their lunch and headed out the door, she turned to Cho, "Do you have any shop here where I might be able to purchase _Ling Zhi _ and _She Dan_ of good quality?"

            "Oh, we can go to the Apothecary. I know that they carry good ginseng, so they should have other Chinese medicinal substances as well."

            The two walked down the cobbled street, and came to the store. The witch working there was in the process of pickling Gallica rose hips. She, like Tom, greeted Cho when the latter walked into the store. 

            "My cousin would like to see if you have any Chinese medicinal substances."

            "Oh? Well, imports from China are all over there, you can go and take a look to see if there is what you need, dearie." The witch pointed at a corner of the shop, and the two Chinese witches walked over. The younger of the two quickly but meticulously picked out what she needed to purchase, and walked to the counter.

            "That'll be six Galleons and two sickles, dearie," the Apothecary witch said. Jing-Li nodded, and drew the amount from her silk reticule. Just as Cho and Jing-Li were on their way out the door, Una Markham, now in third year, walked in, a list of school supplies in her hand. She grinned and waved at the two, and Cho wished her good luck that year with Quidditch. 

            "All right... I will need... four ounces bicorn horn, five scoops of newt eyes, three bat spleens, a dozen dried thistles, and seven sea stars. Oh... and that stuff that is used in memory potions."

            "Jobberknoll feathers," the door opened again, and Anthony Weston walked in, looking down his aristocratic nose at Una. "And they say that Ravenclaws are smart... but then, you're a mudblood. It figures that you wouldn't know anything."

            Una stiffened, and her fists clenched, but she ignored him as she paid for her purchases. Anthony casually picked up a vial of erumpent fluid, and threw a handful of Galleons on the counter. He followed Una out without bothering to get his change.

            Una eyed his purchase suspiciously, "What are you going to do with that? It's explosive!"

            "Wouldn't you want to know?" Anthony taunted, "Too bad, you wouldn't be able to comprehend the complexity of it, given your incompetence in Potions."

            "Hmph! _You_ should talk! I heard Professor Sinistra suggest to you that you start getting private tutoring sessions from Terry Boot of _my_ house, since you are so amazingly inept at Astronomy!" Una retorted, then gave him a malicious smile, "Perhaps poor ickle pure-blood Anthony needs help..."

            "If you're suggesting yourself for the job, no thanks," Anthony sneered, "Ruddy stargazer, probably going to marry a centaur when you grow up. Huh, I feel sorry for the poor beast...  '_saddled_' with a mudblood..."

            Before Una knew what she was going about, her fist had connected soundly and satisfyingly with his face. He staggered backwards, a bruise already starting to darken on the pale skin around his eye. "OW! You _BINT_! That... sodding… _HURT_!"

            "Serves you right, bloody prat! I bet that no one will ever love _you_ as long as you live!" Una hissed, and stormed away.

            She had just ducked into Madame Malkin's next door, and was about to look for a new winter cloak, when an angry voice drifting from outside the slightly ajar window caused her to pause. She ran up to the window to see what was going on.

            A tall, black-haired man was standing in front of Anthony Weston, a look of cold fury on his face, "And what did you do after the little mudblood hit you?" Una's eyes widened, and she pulled back, hastily hiding behind the storefront dummy.

            Anthony shrugged, "She just ran into another store."

            "So... if I understand you correctly, you let the chit go unharmed." The man's voice had softened chillingly, "You did not curse her. You did not break any of her limbs. You are useless, boy!"

            Anthony squirmed slightly, "I thought that... we're not supposed to hit girls." All of the sudden, the man drew back an arm and cuffed the boy brutally on the head. Una winced.

            "Fool! She's a _MUDBLOOD!_ Hit her, hex her, kill her! They're vermin! They don't deserve to live..." the man's lip curled in revulsion, "And you can just stay here until dinnertime. I have no use for spineless whelps following me around." Saying so, the man Disapparated, leaving Anthony Weston standing alone in the middle of the street.

            Una felt a tap on her shoulder, and looked up to see Madame Malkin smiling at her, "All right, dear. What do you need to buy?"

            The Ravenclaw girl's eyes suddenly widened, and she shook her head, "Excuse me, I have something to do right now, kind of an emergency... I'll be back!" she called over her shoulder as she dashed out of the door. The dressmaker watched in bemusement as the girl dashed back into the Apothecary.

            "Back again, dear? Did you forget to buy something for school?"

            "No... no," Una said hurriedly, "Do you have any healing potion for sale?"

*           *           *

            Anthony was rubbing the bump on his head when someone shoved a small bottle of what he recognized as a potion of phoenix tears into his hand. He looked up with his good eye to see a contrite Una, shifting from foot to foot rather uncomfortably.

            "I... I'm sorry," she said awkwardly, "Here... drink it... it will heal..." she gestured his black eye and the bump on his head. 

            Bloody hell, she had _seen_ that? "Sod off!" he snarled, "I don't need anything from _you!_" He somehow managed to put on a superior sneer despite his rather sorry state, and Una grew incensed once more.

            "Fine! Be that way! See if I'm ever nice to you ever again!" The girl flounced off, and disappeared once more into Madame Malkin's.

            Anthony watched as Una climbed onto the stool to be fitted for new robes. When he was certain that her back was turned, he uncorked the bottle of healing potion and gulped it down. Then, he gave one last glance to the girl's back, before walking away.

*           *           *

            Meanwhile, Cho and Jing-Li, who had Apparated to Hogsmeade after finishing their excursion at Diagon Alley, had just walked out of the new joke shop, Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, clutching their sides in laughter. 

            "I still say the funniest were the cinnamon devils," Cho giggled, "I hope that Fred and George did not give any to Gabrielle; she might want to make Professor Snape sprout horns and a tail in the middle of class, though he probably checks what he eats and drinks very carefully now..."

            "I liked the trick cameras the best," Jing-Li grinned, looking at a picture of her taken with said camera. Her hula dancing photographic self was wearing a tiger costume complete with fangs, a tail and a preposterous bright red cape. 

            "Say, let's go and have a drink at the Three Broomsticks." Cho declared. Jing-Li assented, and the two girls made their way over to the pub. 

            Cho was just about to walk towards a table when one of the two men sitting at the counter turned slightly, and she halted. Then, a devious _expression on her face, Cho put a finger to her lips, gesturing for Jing-Li to remain quiet, and snuck up behind the man. Then, just as he lifted his tankard of butterbeer to his lips, she punched him between the shoulder blades, hard.

            He sputtered and coughed, then spun around. Cho smirked, "I promised to beat you black and blue."

            "Chang! Corking to see you. Now, get me another butterbeer, since you've just made me spill mine," he ordered. 

            "You're a big, bad, filthy rich Quidditch player, Warrington. Surely you can afford your own?" She caught sight of the narrow-faced man sitting next to Warrington, and inclined her head almost imperceptibly, "Nott."

            Nott nodded just as coldly. Warrington addressed Cho again, "So, what're you doing here?"

            "Just having a drink with my cousin. She just came from China to visit." Cho sat down next to Warrington at the counter, and called for two tankards of butterbeer. Jing-Li sat down next to her on her other side, and as Madam Rosmerta went off to get their drinks, Warrington asked if he would be seeing her on the Quidditch pitch.

            "No," Cho said crisply. Warrington raised an eyebrow.

            "Then what will you do?"

            "If I tell you, I'd have to kill you." Cho said archly. Warrington rolled his eyes.

            "First Weston, then you. Secretive smart-arsed speccy little Ravenclaws... but then, I can't exactly blame Weston for being secretive... if Nott's words have any indication. Who'd've expected Ms. Holier-than-thou to become what she did?"

            "Thank you." Cho said sarcastically, "It's a bit rich, coming from you, calling someone else smart-arsed, you smarmy git."

            Warrington grinned, "Why, Chang... you love me! You really love me!"

            "Stop flattering yourself. So, you've kept in touch with Charisse, I take it?"

            Warrington snorted, "Right... we're pen-friends and send each other fluffy teddy bears at Christmas... No, Nott sees her around." He did not mention exactly _where_ Nott saw Charisse around.

            "Oh? Where?"

            "If I tell you, I'd have to kill you." Warrington mimicked her words earlier.

            Cho merely rolled her eyes. Jing-Li glanced at her quizzically, and asked her in Chinese who the two men were.

            "The cocky bugger here was the Head Boy my sixth year, and the other is his friend." Cho replied, also in Chinese. Warrington cleared his throat.

            "Hey, no talking about me in foreign languages! You can extol my dashing good looks in English, thank you. And what's her name, anyway, Chang?"

            "Jing-Li." Cho responded promptly. 

            Nott leered lewdly at Jing-Li, "I could use a nice nosh."

            Before anyone could react, he was on the floor, writhing convulsively, scratching himself all over. Jing-Li had gotten to her feet, eyes blazing, face red with fury. She had her wand in one hand, and was shouting something very profane in Chinese. 

            "_Ta ma de wang ba dan!!! __Jing __gan__zhe__ yang __shuo__ WO?!_" Cho winced. Warrington raised an eyebrow.

            "She said... 'That sodding, bloody bastard! How dare he say something like that about ME?!' Just because she doesn't speak a lot of English doesn't mean that she doesn't understand it." Cho explained.

            "Well, I guessed that that was the gist of what she said," Warrington declared, "I meant... what's that spell?"

            Cho shook her head, and looked at the other Chinese girl. "_Tiao__zao__zhen__._" Jing-Li said shortly.

            "I guess... the rough translation would be a flea hex. He feels like there are fleas crawling and biting him all over his body." Cho said tentatively. It was primarily a Mage distraction hex, straightforward but quite effective, although quite a few non-Mage Chinese wizards learnt it as well. 

            "Interesting. When does it wear off?"

            "Feefting minutes." Jing-Li replied bluntly, her English with a slight Chinese accent, "Zis is de most mild flea heix. De mose serious would couse heem to scrach heemsalf untiul he bleed to deas."

            Warrington winced, "All right... I think that I'll stay on your good side, then."

            "Good." Jing-Li smiled and turned back to her butterbeer. By the time Nott, his face marked with light fingernail scratches, was able to stand up again, Cho and Jing-Li had finished their drinks, and walked out of the pub.

*           *           *

_Owl from R. Davies to C. Chang 29 August_

_Cho,_

_            Good luck starting work tomorrow! I am glad to hear that your move-in went well. Having Jing-Li live with you for the time being is wise. She will learn more about her surroundings, and you two can watch out for each other._

_            Today, we got some notable news: Mad-Eye Moody is out of his retirement! He has returned to active Auror duty, and he'll be joining the rest of us very soon. I am partially glad that we have someone as experienced and skilled as he is, on our side, but on the other hand, the fact that current circumstances have forced him to leave a well-deserved retirement... that does not bode well at all._

_            I look to his arrival with mixed feelings. Of course, I am glad that he will be able to benefit the Light Side, but thoughts of him bring back certain memories..._

_            I'm sorry, I shouldn't bring that up to you. I don't want to cause you any pain, ever. But... it's the truth. I hope that this time, his appearance will be for the better._

_            Well, I must go now. Good luck, and keep out of trouble! _

_Yours,_

_Roger_

*           *           *

            "Ah, Miss Chang." Cecilia Bode was a sharp-featured, beady-eyed woman whose angular form radiated an indefinable aura of hidden strength. Dressed in billowing black robes, she sat behind a desk and looked at Cho appraisingly. "Well, get on with it. Let's see the transformation."

            Her no-nonsense appearance and crisp manner seemed strangely reminiscent of Professor McGonagall, but Cho kept silent as she changed from woman to cat and back. Bode nodded approvingly.

            "Good. Now, you are aware of what this job involves?"

            "Yes." Cho knew quite well. She would be prowling around quite a bit, gathering information and evidence while in her Animagus form. She could quite well be tortured or killed at any time, if she happened to get caught.

            "And?" Bode looked at her, dark eyes boring into her own.

            "Well, I'm here, aren't I?" Cho said simply. Cecilia Bode gave her a nod of approbation.

            "Excellent that more witches nowadays are taking matters into their hands to benefit the common good. I see that Miss Weston has started a trend. She was from the same house as you, too."

            Cho blinked, "Miss Weston?"

            "Why, yes. She's been quite indispensable for the Light Side as an inside informant. Joined the Death Eaters as an undercover spy, tells us what she learns in the circle. She was a Ravenclaw, like yourself. A year ahead of you... the daughter of a Death Eater named Mordred Weston. She's tall, has dark blonde hair, kind of pale..."

            Cho's eyes grew to saucer-like size, "_CHARISSE?!"_

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Wheee! Another looong chapter! REVIEW!!


	9. Dangerous Deceptions

**NOTES:**

            In this chapter, we shall learn more about Charisse…

**DEDICATION:**

            This chapter is dedicated to Eve. You ROCK, girl!!

**DISCLAIMER:**

            I promise to continue in my crusade to gain ownership of Harry Potter after midterms.

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'Til The End

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            "Yes, Charisse Weston is the informant. I see that you know her." Cecilia Bode said evenly. Cho's eyes bulged.

            "She... she became a _DEATH EATER?!_" Cho choked, "She... she was never accepted by her family... that her father is a Death Eater I am perfectly willing to believe... but _CHARISSE?!_"

            Cecilia Bode cleared her throat, "Yes, she became a Death Eater. But, she received her Dark Mark for the purpose of becoming an informant. She is the mole. By entering the circle and gaining their trust, by making herself acceptable to her family members, she has received access to information previously unavailable to us. Without someone like her who was able to attend those gatherings and get information for them, the Aurors would never have been able to prevent the deaths of the families of those Muggleborn Hogwarts students. This, of course, is a highly perilous chore, but Miss Weston came and volunteered for it immediately after her graduation. Moreover, she had the recommendation of someone acting on behalf of Albus Dumbledore himself."

            Cho nodded slowly, "I see. Well, I'm not going to become the same type of informant as she is, obviously. So, would you please tell me what sort of missions I shall be going on?"

            Bode tapped her fingers together thoughtfully. "I do not want you to start out prowling about Death Eater gatherings right off. That would not be wise... you are not one of them, and moreover, Miss Weston has provided us with information that the Dark Lord has with him at all times a deadly, venomous snake. You, since you are a warm-blooded animal in your transformation, would likely be devoured by the serpent. Therefore, the mission that I shall assign you for now will be somewhat easier, but no less important. You shall be our informant for the actions of future Death Eaters."

            "Oh?"

            Bode smiled, "Our records indicate that you had been Head Girl in your day. I assume, therefore, that you are quite familiar with Hogwarts School, its environs, and its students."

            "Of course," Cho replied.                                

            "So, you shall go back to Hogwarts, in your Animagus form. You shall be given to a Slytherin student as a present. The Slytherin student shall take you as a familiar, and in that position, you would be able to gain information on his or her peers, especially those who will be graduating next year. Who is planning to join the ranks of the Death Eaters, and who will not. Children, when they are amongst others of their kind, will say a lot. During the daytime, when the student who is your 'owner' has classes, you will be able to prowl out of the castle and into the forest, where you will be able to transform back into your human form, and Apparate here with any information that you have learnt. Of course, you must make sure to be back at Hogwarts in the evenings, in your Animagus form, in the Slytherin Common Room."

            "Er... what about my flat? I had just purchased a flat in London... and my flat-mate will wonder if I am never home."

            "Oh, that has been worked out. In the first place, you do not start until Christmastime. In the second place, you should definitely still keep your flat in your name, because then, no one shall suspect that the cat is you in disguise. We shall be sure that your flat-mate and you shall be compensated for any additional expenses incurred."

            Cho nodded slowly. The plan was starting to make sense to her. "I understand. And... how exactly will I be given away, and to whom?" She hoped that whoever the student she would be given to, would be at least kind to animals.

            "That shall be worked out. Rest assured, though, we shall not give you to someone who would endanger you in your cat form. Not all Slytherin students are cruel and malicious and evil, you know." Bode smiled at her. Cho smiled back.

            "I suppose not," she conceded. True. There were types like Nott and others, who would not hesitate to torture Muggleborns and innocent little animals alike. But then, it would not be fair to automatically assume that all Slytherins are evil. A certain Carl Warrington came to mind: the former Head Boy was rough, purposely irritating, cocky and impertinent; Cho _still _did not understand how Charisse had put up with the git for a year without breaking a plate over his head during some feast or another, but she was fairly sure that he was not viciously cruel. However, she was not certain that being the familiar of someone like him would be exactly easy, either.

             "We are still working on the plan, but shall inform you of more developments when they are made." Cecilia Bode stated evenly as she stood up, "For now, you shall simply help organize and categorize information. Follow me." She walked out of her office, and Cho followed behind her. They walked down a corridor, and into a room where several pensieves sat in a row against the wall. 

            "Each pensieve belongs to one of the staff. Whenever he or she receives any information that he or she deems valid, that information will be deposited within his or her pensieve. For now, your job shall be to organize the information, see what is related."

            Cho nodded. Easy enough. The difficult work would come later.

*          *          *

            Three weeks afterwards, while she was in the middle of sifting through a particularly full pensieve, the door to the room opened, and Cho heard light footsteps before a soft voice called out her name in surprise.

            She turned around, and saw a tall, very elegantly robed witch. "Charisse!"

            Charisse nodded and smiled, "Yes, it's me. It's nice to see you again, Cho. How have you been?"

            "Fine... fine," Cho answered quickly, looking at the other woman. She could see that the Westons must be very wealthy indeed, for Charisse, now favored by her father, wore an ethereal, flattering and very expensive-looking robe of light silvery stuff, fashionably laced with midnight blue cords, the light, gossamer cloak pinned with a brooch shaped like a sapphire rose. "You look posh."

            Charisse made a face, "I've just come from a luncheon. My nominal job is working as a secretary for Ms. Bode. And, because I am a Weston, I can come and go as I please. In any case, the luncheon was quite... interesting, to say the least. Father has been trying to find a suitable family for me to marry into. Of course, I told him that I am not yet ready, but... well... Besides, any 'suitable' family would mean..." she trailed off. She did not need to finish her statement for Cho to understand that any fellow with an unmarked arm would be deemed unsuitable for bridegroom material.

            "I see," Cho said softly, "Which are the lucky blokes being suggested?"

            "Among others, Hector Nott and Erasmus Parkinson."

            "I'm very sorry," Cho said in all seriousness.

            Charisse rolled her eyes slightly, "So am I... Say, I've not been able to see you in such a very long time! We've both got work, I need to put down my information, and you need to sort... but would you like to have tea with me in the afternoon after we're done? I'll come and find you at about a quarter to five."

            "Sure, that will be fine," Cho answered quickly. Charisse gave her a wan smile, and walked towards her pensieve, drawing her thoughts from her mind and placing them into the pensieve. She gave Cho a nod, and quickly walked out, diaphanous robes billowing behind her.

*          *          *

            Three and a half hours later, Charisse did indeed come to fetch Cho. "Are you about finished?"

            "Yes, I've just filed the last one for today," Cho replied, "Where are we going, the Leaky Cauldron?"

            Charisse shook her head, "No, it might not be wise. Certain parties might see you with me and come to certain conclusions." She meant, of course, certain Death Eaters, who knew that Cho's family was firmly on the Light Side, would be suspicious if one of their kind was seen consorting with her. Cho nodded.

            "All right, then where shall we go?"

            "Oh, do not worry, I know of this place. Although…" Charisse looked at Cho thoughtfully, then took out her wand. A few turns of the wrist, and Cho's sensible, serviceable black robes had been replaced by a pearlescent, delicate garment of pristine white satin with sheer sleeves and cloak shot through with golden threads. Another wave of the wand, and Cho's wristwatch was transfigured into a jade bracelet. "And your hair…" The braid was changed into an elegant knot pinned with a jade hairpin matching the bracelet, and Charisse finally stood back, satisfied.

            "Er… what was the purpose of the Cinderella transformation?" Cho asked, bemused, looking down at herself.

            "The specific nature of the place that we're going to. Now, Apparate with me to Knockturn Alley."

            Cho's eyebrows raised to her hairline, but she did as she was told. 

            She was not familiar with Knockturn Alley, having been strictly forbidden from entering it since childhood. Once, only once, had she ever set foot in the place, and that was when her father had to make a detour there from Diagon Alley her 5th year to purchase an exorcism kit to get rid of a pesky poltergeist that had made his way into the Chang home. Cho remembered wizards in dark robes, dimly lit shops and the sinister feeling of being watched by hostile eyes. Now, she wondered to herself exactly where in this place would Charisse be taking her, and how would the place possibly be safer than the much-friendlier Leaky Cauldron.

            Charisse seemed to develop a new persona when she entered Knockturn Alley. She held her head up high, and walked in a mincing gait, an affected, supercilious expression on her face. Now and then, a witch or wizard would greet her, and she would answer the salutations with a cool nod. Cho followed her, looking neither right nor left, and soon, they reached a rather unassuming little building at the end of the street. Charisse walked up to the door, and Cho followed. As soon as she took a look inside, her eyebrows shot up once again in surprise.

            A wizard in impeccable black robes stood at the door. "Ah, Miss Weston, a pleasure. How are you today?"

            "In excellent form, thank you," Charisse said in a cool, cultured voice, "A table for two, in a private room, if you please."

            The wizard nodded slowly, then his eyes turned to Cho. "And who is this with you? I have never seen her here before."

            "She is my guest." Charisse emphasized the last word, laying on the snobby ice-princess attitude with a trowel. The wizard was silent for a moment, then walked into the establishment, gesturing for the two to follow him.

            Despite the small, inconspicuous exterior of the place, the interior shone with sparkling chandeliers and polished ebony tables. A wood-nymph dressed in a moss-green tunic, her long, loose hair twined with ivy, led them up a winding marble staircase to a private room, and Charisse, after thanking her coolly and handing her a handful of galleons, walked in after Cho and shut the door. Then, she cast a silencing charm and sat down at the table.

            "No one would dare to listen in upon conversations here. Private rooms are exactly that…private. But a silencing charm is a safeguard. We shall be undisturbed; we simply call out what we want to the menu." Charisse explained to Cho, "I assume that you know very well what it is that I am, that I do…"

            Cho nodded, "Yes, Ms. Bode told me the first day that I was here. Er…do you mind if I ask you a rather impertinent question?"

            "Go on, I don't mind."

            "Well… I thought that your father disapproved of how you'd turned out, different from the rest of your family and all…" Cho paused, unsure of how exactly to continue, "Well, how could you convince them that you… you were on their side?"

            Charisse shuddered slightly, "Do you know how exactly one becomes a Death Eater?"

            Cho shook her head. Charisse nodded slowly, "Well, you know, not any witch or wizard can enter the circle. There's a… process. One must prove his or her… faith to the Dark Lord before he or she can get the Mark. Generally, the Initiation Ceremony would involve eliminating a Muggle or Muggleborn. The method to do so, of course, would be up to the person receiving the Mark."

            Cho paled slightly. "And…what did…you do?" Was Charisse actually capable of KILLING someone in cold blood, even for the sake of the greater good? She felt a chill race up her spine. 

            "You remember potions lessons?"

            "I try not to, but why?" Cho quipped.

            "You know, of course, that Hemlock is one of the most poisonous substances known today?"

            "Yes…" Hemlock was infamous and deadly. The essence of the plant was one of the most basic, yet most toxic draughts known to man. Even Muggles used it for deadly purposes.

_~FLASHBACK~_

_            Shadowy figures Apparated into the graveyard. A tall, thin, eerie man in black robes, eyes glowing like red-hot coals beneath his dark hood stood with his back against a tall marble headstone. Three other figures, similarly shrouded in black, stood in a rough semicircle in front of the ruby-eyed apparition. One was short and plump, a metallic silver hand gleaming in the sliver of moonlight. Another was tall and upright, dark hair barely visible under his hood, a look of cold cruelty on his aristocratic face. The third was slender, and the figure enveloped in the cloak was a feminine one. Her face was entirely blank._

_            A low, snakelike hiss emanated from the red-eyed apparition's mouth, "It is time."_

_            The other two men donned their masks, stark white in the murky moonlight. A soft pop, and yet another man, this one with silvery blond hair, carrying in his arms a struggling girl of about seven years old, Apparated to the spot. Unceremoniously, the child was dropped to the ground._

_            "Miss Weston." The hypnotic hiss called the name of the woman, and she stepped forward slowly._

_            "Your method of choice?" The woman held out a glass vial filled with some sort of potion. _

_            "Hemlock. Purified essence of Hemlock, my Lord," she said in an expressionless voice. The snakelike voice gave a low laugh._

_            "Very good. Simple, yet effective. Get on with it!"_

_            The woman walked over to where the child was lying on the ground, struggling in the invisible bonds that she had been placed in, and quickly, inexorably, poured the contents of the vial down the girl's throat. The girl coughed, sputtered, and started shivering. Soft moans filled the air like gusts of chilling wind. The men watched with maniacal glee shining in their eyes, and the Dark Lord took out his wand. Pointing it at the exposed forearm of the young woman, he muttered an incantation. A flash of green light, and the mark of a skull with a serpent coming out of its mouth appeared on the pale, smooth skin. The woman closed her eyes for a moment, and close by, the child gave a small cry of fright. _

_            "My Lord, she is vociferous. Shall I quiet her?"_

_            The Dark Lord gave a movement indicating consent, and the woman rapidly put her hand over the nose and mouth of the child. Invisible to all eyes around her, a capsule of Strychnine passed from where it had been concealed in the woman's hand into the mouth of the child. Weakly, as the Hemlock's chilling effect raced up her body, she swallowed the little pill. Strychnine was poison. Lethally toxic, no less so than the vial of Hemlock that she had been forced to drink. But the woman who had poisoned her knew something unique about the two deadly toxins. Like fire and water, two potentially destructive forces could cancel each other out._

_            The black-robed men Disapparated as soon as the child had quieted and stilled, and the woman remained a moment longer. Changing a nearby pebble into a Portkey, she cast a Memory charm on the child, and put the Portkey into her tiny hands. The child would be found in her bed, peacefully asleep and unharmed, the next morning. The woman took one last look at the scene around her, and the blackened mark upon her arm, before she, too, Disapparated from the graveyard._

_~END FLASHBACK~_

            "…And that is how…" Charisse concluded her story. Cho, her coq au vin forgotten and cold, looked at her, eyes wide and mouth agape.

            "W-who was the girl, do you know?" she asked softly. Charisse shrugged and let out a soft sigh.

            "Just some random Muggle child… Lucius Malfoy enchanted a shiny toy into a Portkey to his manor, and… " the blonde girl's face suddenly hardened into an expression that Cho had never seen her wear, "This is why I do it. I've lived with this all my life. I've _seen_ this. And now, finally, I can do something about it."

            Cho smiled at her wanly, a new respect for the older girl in her eyes, "Roger, and now you."

            "Well, Ravenclaws must stick together, no?" Charisse smiled back at her. Cho nodded.

            "True enough."

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REVIEW!!!!


	10. Rat Chase

**NOTES:**

            And here is Chapter 10, in which Cho returns to Hogwarts! Boy, Harry will have a lot to thank her for…

**DEDICATION:**

            This chapter is dedicated to Susan Bones, because she helped me MS Auror this fic! THANK YOU!!

**DISCLAIMER:**

            Maybe, if I were a good girl, Santa might put them in my stocking for Christmas. Alas, I am not a good girl.

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'Til The End

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            Cho sat somewhat nervously in the black leather-covered chair in Cecilia Bode's office, as the latter finished writing up some correspondence. Today would be the day that she would find out who it was that she would stay with. 

            Cecilia Bode sealed her letter, and looked up at Cho, "So, down to business. I hope that you have not decided to reject your mission after all."

            "Oh, I'm doing it," Cho said firmly. After several months of sorting and sifting through the information gathered by the Department's various Unspeakables, she had become rather... accustomed to seeing horrifying things. Idly, she wondered if Roger and Charisse were similarly desensitized. It seemed rather surreal somehow...

            "Good," Bode looked at her approvingly, "We've decided that for your sake, it would probably be best to give you to a student not too young, but not too old. Someone too young could possibly be too influenced by... outside sources, whereas someone too old might be... decided upon which path in life he or she would choose."

            "I understand," Cho said softly, "So, who shall it be?"

            "Miss Weston had offered to give you to her brother. Would that be all right with you?"

            Cho blinked. Anthony Weston, the pureblood-supremacist third year Slytherin Keeper? The one who called his own sister a bint, who picked on Muggleborn students from her own house... And Charisse wanted to give her to the boy...

            Bode seemed to read her thoughts, "Miss Weston has vouched that you shall be well-taken-care of. But if you're afraid..."

            "I'll do it." If Roger could duel Death Eaters and Charisse could put on a convincing act of poisoning a Muggle child, she, Cho Chang, could certainly act as a scout amongst the Slytherin students. Besides, she _could_, if all else failed, transform back, even though she would be blowing her cover, and get herself out of there if things came to too dire straits.

            Cecilia Bode nodded crisply, "Excellent. You shall have a week off to prepare, and then, report here at nine o'clock sharp in the morning. You shall transform, and Miss Weston shall present you to her brother." After she had finished giving Cho her instructions, Bode smiled somewhat, "We have the utmost faith in you, Miss Chang. Good luck!"

*          *          *

            Sure enough, a week later, Cho found herself placed in a white wicker basket tied with green ribbon and placed under an imposing and magnificent though not very friendly-looking Christmas tree in the large, castle-like building that was the Weston home. Charisse had covered her with a warm, fleecy blanket, and though it had taken a while to get used to her form and position, she had managed to fall asleep for a little while during the night. 

            The next morning, at dawn, she awoke to the sound of quick footsteps coming down the stairs. Anthony Weston, dressed in a rich-looking green dressing gown, was making a beeline towards the Christmas tree. Following him at a more sedate pace was Charisse, similarly gowned, except in white. Anthony picked up a long, thin package that was from his father, and tore open the wrappings.

            "A Firebolt!" His face lit up, then sneered, "Bloody Ravenclaw chit won't stand a chance, will she?"

            "Anthony!" Charisse chided. Anthony looked at her, confused.

            "She's a Muggleborn and a bothersome bint besides, aren't you supposed to understand?"

            Charisse sighed, "Still, you will only make enemies by saying such things. Believe them if you will, but if you say them at school, you know that all of the Prefects and teachers would just take points off." Cho, still in cat form, was impressed with her logic.

            Anthony shrugged, "Whatever..."

            "Besides, you forget, _I_ was in Ravenclaw," Charisse's tone lightened slightly. "Don't insult my house, kid."

            "Yeah, yeah okay. What did you get me, 'Risse?"

            "Over there," Charisse pointed at the basket, and Cho froze for a moment as the boy turned and pulled it, and her with it, towards him. "I thought that you might like to have a familiar with you at school, and if I remember correctly, you always liked cats. Plus, this cat is quite a beauty, isn't she?"

            "'S okay," Anthony looked at Cho's face quizzically, "What's her name?"

            "Ch -- Choose one yourself."

            Anthony lifted the cat out of the basket and set her on his lap. He absently stroked her, and she purred. Then, a moment later, he had tweaked her tail, and she immediately hissed at him in warning. He gave a light chuckle.

            "Belladonna."

            Charisse raised an eyebrow in amusement, "Beautiful lady?"

            The boy rolled his eyes, "No, don't be daft. The potion. Snape taught us... beauty and death joined together in a single cup. Eternal youth not by drinking from the fountain of life, but from the water of the dead." All of the sudden, his hand stilled over Cho's back and he smirked again, "Markham's Belladonna brew turned out atrociously. It turned orange instead of blue."

            Now it was Charisse's turn to roll her eyes. Cho seethed for a moment in indignation for her former housemate and teammate, before she was tumbled rather ungraciously from the boy's lap as he stood up hastily. At that moment, Mordred Weston stalked into the room and looked coldly at the occupants.

            "And what did you get him, Charisse?"

            "A cat, sir. I thought that it would be nice if he were to have his own familiar at school."

            Mr. Weston looked unfeelingly at the cat on the floor, and Cho looked back at him. "It doesn't seem like a pure pedigree. An owl would have been much more useful." Cho seethed. The man actually was concerned about pure-bloodedness even in _CATS?! She arched her back at him and hissed._

            Mr. Weston drew back in surprise. Was that worthless dumb beast... _glaring at him?_

            Charisse stifled a laugh, "I think you hurt its feelings, father." Mordred Weston sniffed.

            "Owls are better, more useful."

            Anthony, to Cho's surprise, spoke up in her defense, "But father, _everyone has a bloody owl. The only one who has a cat familiar is the mudblood Head Girl Granger, and she's really stuck-up about the ugly beast. Keeps on telling our Head Boy Malfoy that the animal is special. Well, at least __this cat is nicer-looking than her unsightly ginger fiend. Maybe now she won't be so uppity any more."_

            Mr. Weston didn't say anything, but he nodded curtly, and walked out of the room. No more disparaging things were said about the cat. Anthony smirked to himself and picked up the cat again. Setting it in his lap, he addressed it in a smug voice, "Works every time... "

            Charisse gave a little snort and rolled her eyes, "Ruddy Slytherin... "

            "Hey, don't insult my house!"

*          *          *

            Gradually, Cho became somewhat accustomed to the Slytherin dorms. They were rather draftier than she was used to, but they were elegant in their own aloof way. The common room, unsurprisingly, was decorated with a serpent motif, and the stone walls entirely covered with forest green tapestries. The common room had wrought-iron lanterns, once again in a serpentine motif, for light. Anthony, in the evenings after dinner, usually liked to sit in a green velvet armchair by the fire. 

            Within a week, Cho had discovered that Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle would be amongst the first students to receive the Dark Mark after graduation. They would be initiated into the circle exactly a week after the end of the term. Rumors were that Draco Malfoy would be initiated at that time as well, but seeing as to how the Head Boy stayed in his own dormitory rather than with the other Slytherins, Cho could not verify this fact.

            Nevertheless, she reported her findings to Bode at first opportunity, and, at periodic intervals, she would leave Hogwarts to report anything of significance. It became a routine-of-sorts, and Cho grew accustomed to both her job and the complex Slytherin students that she saw every day. Anthony himself was something of a puzzle. He was an intelligent boy, and at times, glimpses of kindness and humanity, in his behavior towards her, could be visible through the rude, conniving veneer. 

            But then, there were times... like that one time she had been wandering about the school after everyone had gone to bed, she had ascended to the Astronomy Tower, to find, not snogging couples, but a solitary Una Markham sitting against the wall by the large telescope, crying bitter, angry tears.

            Cho, concerned for her former housemate and teammate, had padded up to the girl and mewed, nudging her shoe with a black paw. Una had sniffled slightly, then picked her up and held her close, like she might a favorite teddy bear. "You're his cat, aren't you?"

            Cho remained silent and looked at her, willing her to continue. Una sighed heavily, "Is he mean to you, too? Today in Potions he dropped a spoonful of that erumpent fluid that he had bought at the Apothecary into my cauldron, and the entire bloody Pepper-up potion shot up out of the cauldron." Cho looked more closely at the girl, and saw that her cheeks had slight red streaks and speckles where the hot potion must have splattered on her. "He just does things like that for no _reason! Bloody Weston, what did __I ever do to him?"_

            Cho made a mental note to talk to Charisse later on about giving her brother a word or two about malicious pranks on Muggleborn students. Una sighed and stroked the warm black fur a little bit longer, and Cho purred. The girl looked at the cat and spoke, half to herself.

            "How could someone like him have such a nice, friendly animal? You'd think that he would be the type to own a nest of poisonous snakes. Nasty, evil Slytherin git!"

            _No, I think that both of you need to be a little less judgmental, Cho thought to herself. But she did not say anything, just stayed in the girl's lap and purred until Una calmed down. The third year stood up at last, and looked down at the cat._

            "I should probably go to bed soon," she said, "Let's hope that Orla's gone to bed by now, although... who knows? Does so much extra credit for Defense Against the Dark Arts that she's up all night oftener than not. Daft... wants to be an Auror just like what's-his-name... that bloke who was Quidditch captain before Cho. That handsome one who came and sat with Cho in the hospital... if I didn't know better, I'd say that Orla fancies him," she said confidentially to the cat, then her sad face broke out at last in a small grin, "Too bad he's in love with Cho."

            Cho almost blew her cover and transformed into human form to vehemently deny the fact, but caught herself at the last moment. Una bent down and patted her on the head one last time, then walked out of the Astronomy Tower.

*          *          *

            Cho did not have much more news to report in terms of new Death Eaters after ascertaining the date of Crabbe and Goyle's initiation. She spent a good bit of her time walking with Hermione's cat, the "unsightly ginger fiend" Crookshanks. Hermione's boyfriend, the youngest Weasley boy, tended to look askance upon it, and muttered things about Crookshanks' bad taste in choosing a Slytherin cat, and Cho would be hard-pressed not to jump up in human form and say that she was a _Ravenclaw, blast it. Hermione would roll her eyes and retort that at least Crookshanks did not walk about with Mrs. Norris._

            _"She doesn't know that," Crookshanks would say impishly to Cho, who would laugh to herself._

            One day in the middle of May, however, the ginger cat actually walked all the way from the Head Student quarters to the Slytherin dorms, and mewed at the portrait until Cho, sitting inside, heard and walked outside to see what was going on. 

            _"I need your help, Miss Spy."_

            _"What's going on?" Cho asked, curious. The ginger cat started to talk rapidly._

            _"You were a Ravenclaw, I'm sure that you know the whole story of Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew."_

            _"Of course, what about them?__ The former escaped from Azkaban and the latter is dead."_

            _"No, that is where you are wrong. Sirius Black was the best friend of James Potter when they were in school. Those two, that former Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts who was unfortunately a werewolf, and Peter Pettigrew were close chums as students. Of course, when James and Lily Potter married, Sirius was the best man and then, when Harry Potter was born, he was the godfather. Also, when word got out that the Dark Lord that you humans fear to name were after the Potters, they were going to perform a Fidelius Charm with Sirius as the Secret-Keeper. You know how the charm works?"_

            _"Of course, go on."_

_            "They switched the Secret-Keeper to Pettigrew at the last minute, and Pettigrew betrayed them. Joined the Dark Lord. He was the one who killed the boy whom you danced with the year that Tournament took place." Cho inhaled sharply, but the other cat simply continued, hurriedly giving her an account of Sirius, Wormtail and the like._

            _"All right..." Cho finally said weakly, __"Let me see if I understand you clearly... This Wormtail character is an animagus like myself. A rat. With a silver hand... er... paw, and is a Death Eater. And he betrayed the Potters, framed Sirius Black, who is another animagus in the form of a dog. And he killed Cedric. And... you say that you've sighted him within Hogwarts grounds?!"_

            _"Right you are, smart Ravenclaw."_

_            "And... how exactly am I to help you here?"_

            Crookshanks pawed the ground impatiently, _"Look, you and Professor McGonagall are the only ones who could possibly help me. And... I will not ask her. If the dastardly rodent would just remain in rat form, I would have caught him in a pinch, but I can do nothing about him if he transforms. But you can defeat him in both animagus and human forms. Besides, you're a Slytherin familiar. Someone in that wretched house must know what he and the Death Eaters are up to. Then, you can catch him. As long as you manage to stun him or something and hold him until I get my mistress, everything will be all right. Will you do it?" _

            Cho's mind went back to that fateful day all those years ago, when a white-faced Harry Potter had emerged from the maze of the Final Task, the Triwizard cup in one hand, the arm of the murdered Cedric in the other. _"Yes, I will."_

*          *          *

            Search though she might, Cho did not find any sign of Wormtail at all. On the last day of the school year, she sought out Crookshanks once more as the latter was skulking around Hagrid's hut. _"I've heard some things about Death Eaters kidnapping Harry before he can graduate and join the Aurors' Guild. But nothing has happened so far."_

_            "Exactly," the ginger cat hissed rather ominously, __"It will probably be today."_

_            "We can split up and search the grounds," Cho offered. _

            _"We'd better."_

            The two cats separated. Cho strode towards the direction of the Forbidden Forest, a path that she had come to know quite well from her excursions outside of the school on the way to the Ministry for reporting, while Crookshanks walked opposite, in the direction of the Quidditch pitch. 

            An hour later, there was still no sign of Wormtail. Students would be on their way home. Cho started back towards the castle, when all of the sudden, a beam of sunlight hit a mossy stone nearby, and something _sparkled. She halted, and pounced._

            A squeak, and a gray, bedraggled rat emerged from behind the rock. Cho took in its appearance, and her eyes riveted to one of its front paws. It was _silver. She pounced again, and missed by a hairbreadth. The rat shot forward, taking off for the direction of the forest. Cho saw, in her mind's eye, the image of Harry and dead Cedric emerging from the Final Task again, and with a sound half cat's yowl, half woman's scream, she leapt forward once again. She was unaware the she had transformed into a human again mid-bound, until she heard a scream of "__Petrificus__ Totalus!" and the rat froze on the ground. She landed on her feet, eyes wide, and saw that she had her wand drawn. That scream had been hers._

            Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a gingery blur running towards her, and she transformed back into cat form, firmly holding both her front paws over Wormtail's frozen form.

            _"Get Hermione!" she screamed. The ginger cat picked up the immobile rat in his mouth, and tore off towards the castle. Cho was about to follow and return to Anthony when a thought struck her._

            Anthony's father was a Death Eater. Wormtail was a Death Eater. Once the latter was put in custody, he would be administered a truth potion and then tell the world that a black cat animagus, actually a Chinese witch, had been the one to capture him. And... unless he was a fool, Mordred Weston would certainly put two and two together, and she, Cho, would likely be put into a sack with an unbreakable charm on it as soon as she and Anthony had gotten out of the train, and taken to the nearest lake and drowned. Well, she would not go back to her own death, not now. She had finally been able to accomplish something useful.

            She ran out of Hogwarts grounds and Disapparated. A moment later, she appeared in Charisse's office at the Ministry. The blonde woman looked up in surprise. "Cho? What are you doing here? My brother will miss you."

            "Your brother will need a new pet."

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w00t! And the cat has caught the rat! REVIEW!!


	11. Slaughter and Subversion

**NOTES:**

This chapter has Jing-Li doing very Jing-Li things. Meaning... if you can't deal with violence, profanity or violent profanity, stay away.

**DEDICATION:**

            Dedicated to the magnificent Kala Phoenix, aka Rainfallen, in hopes that she will now join us in the Roger/Cho happiness. Plus, she's just too cool...

**DISCLAIMER:**

            I am the happy sadistic Ravenclaw/Slytherin hybrid fanfiction goddess. That means exactly what it sounds like. FANFICTION. Meaning, Harry Potter isn't mine. Do you even need to read these things?!

~          ~          ~          *          *          *          ~          ~          ~

'Til The End

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            The capture of Peter Pettigrew and the subsequent pardon of Sirius Black shook the wizarding world like a tempest shakes the boughs of a young tree. Pettigrew's testimony in court revealed that an Asian witch who had turned into a cat had captured him. Cho was rather worried for a while, both for herself and for Charisse, but the latter reassured her that everything was all right.

            "Father was rather angry with me. Told me that I should have known that the cat I had given Anthony had been unusual. I simply told him that Pettigrew himself had stayed with the Weasley family for twelve years, and no one had known a thing. Anthony is a little upset over the loss of his pet, but I think he is really rather bowled over by the whole thing. And, secretly, rather impressed. In any case, I don't think that he will be allowed to have another familiar. Well, at the very least, not until father's paranoia wears off... and who knows when _that_ might be?" Charisse rolled her eyes very slightly, "However, don't worry about me. You-Know-Who is rather upset at the loss of his servant, but is looking forward to gaining others."

            Cho knew what she was referring to. The initiations of Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. Charisse sighed softly, "Draco Malfoy is going to be initiated on the same day. Lucius promised the Dark Lord."

            Cho's eyes widened, "Oh dear... " She shook her head, "I have been in contact with Jing-Li. She said that she would make sure that no new Death Eaters would be initiated on that day."

            Charisse shook her head gloomily, "Let's just hope that she's as good as her word."

*          *          *

            On the fateful evening of the initiation, Voldemort, as well as the fathers of the three to be initiated, and Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle and Draco Malfoy Apparated to the graveyard. The place was deserted, and as usual, the Death Eaters and Death Eaters-to-be formed a rough semicircle in front of the Dark Lord. There was silence all around, until a soft pop nearby signified the arrival of someone new.

            Walden Macnair, Hector Nott and Charisse Weston, all three of which carried a small bundle in his or her arms. Abruptly, all three bundles were set to the ground, and in the moonlight, were revealed to be three children, all with curly hair. Two were twin girls of five, crying softly in fear. One was older, looking to be about nine, huddling over her little sisters protectively, although she herself was shaking fearfully. 

            Voldemort gave a particularly nasty smile. "Ah, but of course. The sisters of that mudblood Hufflepuff who just graduated along with the three who shall be entering my service today. Young Draco Malfoy... you surely remember Justin Finch-Fletchley."

            Draco nodded, staring at the little girls. Voldemort continued, "Mudblood scum, all of them! Now is your chance to eliminate them before they have a chance to enter and infest our world."

            Draco remained unmoving, seeming to be frozen. Then, he gestured to Crabbe and Goyle, "Perhaps they should go first. I will wait."

            Voldemort looked at the young blond man strangely, but acquiesced. He gestured for Crabbe and Goyle to step forward. The two did so, hulking forms dark in the moonlight, and the girls in the center gasped in horror. Both the two held in their hands huge clubs. 

            Crabbe stepped forward, grabbing one of the younger girls by her curly hair, and yanking her upward. She gave a terrified, high-pitched shriek, and Goyle punched her in the face, grunting threats unless she shut up. The other two shrank backwards, in an effort to escape, only to be caught and held immobile by Macnair and Nott. A horrible, hideous leer on his face, Goyle raised his club, intending obviously to dash the child's brains out.

            What happened next, no one quite knew, but all of the sudden, seemingly from nowhere, several figures with black kerchiefs concealing their noses and mouths leapt into the circle. One tall, wiry figure was in the center, and immediately went for Gregory Goyle, a look of utmost fury in the dark eyes that were visible above the black kerchief. A slim but strong-looking hand reached out like a cobra's head striking, and two fingers came in violent contact with Goyle's thick throat. Goyle backed away, clutching his neck. 

            Voldemort's red eyes widened in recognition at the uniform worn by the group of intruders. "Shen-Wu Mages from China," he said in a tone both awe-filled and yet menacing, "I have lost a servant to the Dementor's Kiss because of you. How kind of you to show up so that he can be avenged."

            The leader of the Mages gave a derisive chuckle, and muttered in a husky voice that was rather accented, "You just keep thinking that. Look at one over there," pointing at Goyle.

            The heavyset young man had dropped his club, and was looking terrified, clutching his throat in obvious pain. The Mage leader laughed coldly, "The jugular vein in his neck broken, the windpipe ruptured. His blood flow down his windpipe, in five minute he drown in own blood. No longer able to kill children."

            The Death Eaters stared at the Mage leader in shock for a moment, then galvanized into action. Crabbe the younger and Goyle the elder both rushed at the slim, blue-clad figure, but the Mage leader leapt into the air, one foot coming in solid contact with the elder Goyle's groin, and hitting Crabbe in the collarbone and kidney with the blades of the hands. Both the black-robed figures fell to the ground in agony, and immediately, the other Death Eaters drew their wands. 

            The Mages were unfazed, and drew their wands as well. The Mage Leader aimed at Crabbe the younger, and called out, "Ba Gua Huo Yan Zhen!" Crabbe the younger fell to the ground, rolling about, his face turning redder and redder, sweat breaking upon his brow.

            In the confusion, several of the other Mages had already grabbed the children and Disapparated. The Mage Leader, however, remained, as did two others, both of whom had their wands drawn. The Mage Leader gave Crabbe a pitiless look, and once again coldly explained what had happened to him, "Hex of Celestial fire. Burn evil heart from within. Body will become too hot and blood and humors will boil. Brain denature."

            Hexes arced across the air like lightning bolts, making the air around them so dense with sparks, bangs, smoke, and screams that no one could see or hear precisely what was going on for the next five minutes. When the air had cleared, the Mage Leader had a foot over Crabbe the elder's still body, and had a wand pointed outward. But there were no more Death Eaters around besides those who had fallen. They had Disapparated. The Mage Leader turned to the other two mages, and reached up to pull away the black kerchief. 

            "Miss Zhao, what do we do now?" one of them asked in Chinese. 

            Jing-Li took in the carnage, and narrowed her eyes, "We return to camp. Four Death Eaters down, but the others escaped."

            "Well, Miss Zhao, did you expect to defeat the Dark Lord?" 

            Jing-Li shrugged, "Not exactly. It is only one meeting after all, I did not expect overmuch. I did not expect to kill him." She paused for a moment, and tacked on, as an afterthought, "Only to injure him severely."

            There was a snort of amusement, and then three small pops sounded in the air, and the graveyard was once again only occupied with the dead.

*          *          *

            Lucius Malfoy paced in his study like a caged tiger. Those thrice-damned Mages! First the capture of Wormtail, then the destruction of Crabbe, Goyle and their sons. He and Draco had had to Disapparate from the graveyard back to Malfoy Manor for the sake of safety. 

            And these days, the boy had been quiet. Brooding. Did not talk of the scene in the graveyard, or much of anything else, either. Draco simply stayed in his room and fretted.

            Lucius stopped pacing for a moment and took a sip from the goblet of wine he held in his hand. Crabbe and Goyle, both the elder and the younger, had been unfortunate losses. But then, they had been much too rash. Storming headlong at a fully trained Mage was basically asking for death. Oh well, it had taught the rest of them a lesson.

            He would have the initiation ceremony for Draco once again in a month, and this time around, he would make certain that there would be adequate enough protection. Draco would get the Mark, and not die in the process. And perhaps... perhaps, they might be able to capture one of the Mages. Lucius smiled as images of oriental wizards screaming under the Cruciatus curse filled his head.

            Meanwhile, in his room, Draco Malfoy looked at the scrap of parchment on his desk, covered with drying ink. With a set face, he set it on fire with his wand, and watched silently as it burned.

            The word stood out clearly before the sheet shriveled up into a ball of crinkled ash. _"Doomed."___

*          *          *

            A month later, the Death Eaters once again gathered in the graveyard. This time, there were far more masked, robed figures than there had been at any previous Initiation ceremony. Once again, a child was brought in, a chubby boy of three. The boy did not seem to know what was going on, and simply stared at the dark wizards with wide, guileless blue eyes as he sat in the middle of the circle.

            "Draco Malfoy, come forth." 

            Draco stepped forward slowly, his face expressionless. He did not speak. The others waited, and watched. Nothing happened.

            Finally, Lucius spoke up, his voice menacingly impatient, "Boy, get on with it! I taught you the curse myself."

            Draco seemed to be having an internal struggle, fingering his wand with his hands. For a long time, he did not respond, and then, he turned towards his father with a grim expression on his face. "No," he said softly.

            There was a deafening silence as all of the masked figures watched him in stunned disbelief.

"What did you just say, boy?!" his father's voice, filled with cold, nearly palpable rage, rang out, breaking the stunned silence. 

He could keep silent. Hold out both arms, his wand arm performing the Killing curse on the child, his other to receive the Mark. He could... they had not passed judgment yet. But he did not.

"No," he repeated. The one word to seal his inevitable death sentence. Up in the tree, a black kerchief concealing her nose and mouth from view, Jing-Li's eyes widened. Well, well... this was an interesting new development. But now... he would be killed. The Death Eaters were out for blood. It was either the blood of the child, or the blood of the one who had refused to kill the child. 

That did not mean that they would succeed. No... indeed they would not. But she did not have much time. There were too many. The rebel's father was powerful and had many followers. Fighting would not be an option this time.

Oh well... there would be time for that, she was sure. They were advancing upon him, wands drawn. The rebel looked back at them, the handsome face still filled with pride, head held high, silvery hair gleaming in the moonlight. Protectively, he had an arm over the child's body. As his father approached with a truly ugly look on his hard face, he grabbed the child's wrist. Jing-Li smiled behind her kerchief. Good! Draco, you are clever indeed. You are making my job much easier.

Quickly, she removed an acorn from the tree, and cast an _Engorgio_ charm on it until it was about the size of a ping-pong ball. Muttering the correct incantation over it, she whistled, and tossed it down directly at the younger Malfoy's head. Cho had mentioned that he was a Seeker, a good one.

Now was the time to see if this were truly the case. Cho had better not have been exaggerating...

Draco Malfoy looked up to hear a clear, high-pitched whistle coming from somewhere up high. The Death Eaters looked up frantically, wands drawn, but could not see anyone. And then... something soared downward... something somewhat round, about the size of a Snitch.

Draco caught it reflexively, and all of the sudden, felt a jerk at his navel. As the world started to spin, he suddenly knew that he was leaving _them_ forever.

*          *          *

            When everything had stopped spinning at last, he found himself in the middle of a strange sort of encampment. He was surrounded by tents on all side: blue tents with the golden emblems of the Chinese Mages emblazoned on the side. The tents were almost entirely silent. Draco frowned.

            "Where the devil _am_ I?!"

            "I would think that it would be obvious," an accented, husky voice sounded behind him. Draco whirled around and found himself face-to-face with the same Mage leader who had defeated Crabbe and Goyle, sitting spryly in the branches of a nearby tree. The Mage leader leapt down nimbly, and pointed to a nearby tent. "You must be weary from ordeal tonight. Go sleep, I answer questions tomorrow."

            Draco looked at the Mage leader suspiciously, "You… I _WATCHED_ you kill four men in cold blood. Why should I do what you tell me? I don't even know who you are."

            The Mage leader's eyes rolled heavenward above the black kerchief, and replied, "Since you saw me do that, you should obey me all the more."

            "Obey you? _OBEY YOU?!_ I just _DISOBEYED _the Dark Lord, and you're telling me to obey _YOU!_" Draco threw his hands into the air, now, Slytherin assuredness and sneer back in his voice. 

            "Oh don't you even start about disobeying the Dark Lord, Draco Malfoy!" the Mage leader hissed, "Ta ma le ge ba zi de… sodding wanker!" Draco raised an eyebrow. But the Mage leader continued, "I have just saved you from Killing Curse, and the fact that you not even thanking me already giving me great offense. Now, go to tent and sleep before I hex you!"

            Draco choked. This situation was becoming increasingly surreal. First, he was to be initiated tonight. Then, just as he refused, someone threw him a Portkey, bringing him to this place, and now, the crazy bloodthirsty Mage leader of Doom was threatening to hex him if he didn't… sleep?! Dimly, he noticed that another Mage had taken the child he had brought along to another tent. But still, the Mage leader was staring up at him, giving no indication of backing down at any time.

            "I've never been threatened to be hexed for not _sleeping… who do you think you are, my mother?!"_

            The Mage leader laughed cynically, "I not than unfortunate, thank Heavens, and let me assure you, I never bed man who was about to kill you tonight. But, no more questions until morning, go to tent now!"

            "What if I don't?" And Draco suddenly found himself suspended in the air, upside down, floating about ten feet above the Mage leader's head.

            "Will you go to sleep voluntarily, or shall we wait for blood to rush to your head and you to fall unconscious?"

            "Fine, I'll go to sleep," Draco said in a sulky voice. The Mage leader smiled, and set him down on his feet. He glared, and stalked towards the tent.

            "And a thank-you-for-saving-my-unworthy-arse-from-maniacal-Death-Eaters would be appreciated!"

            "Sod off! You don't even have silk sheets here… and I have a great arse!" came Draco's voice from within the tent.

            Jing-Li threw her hands into the air and glared at the tent. Carefully, she removed the black kerchief from her nose and mouth, and a fluent string of Chinese profanity escaped explosively from her lips.

*          *          *

            "So, young Malfoy's rebelled, eh?"

            "Yes, he has. He's missing right now. He got thrown a Portkey that night from an unknown source, and we have no idea where he might be."

            "Well, well… I'll be damned. Old Lucius must be apopleptic with rage right now, eh?"

            "Yes, that he is. Just wanted to let you know what was going on, though, sir. And if you ever run into him… well, now you know what really happened. Please, if you do see him, help him out."

            "That I will, lassie, don't you worry. Young Malfoy… who'd have thought?" Mad-Eye Moody looked incredulous, then grinned apologetically at the wispy blonde girl standing in his yard, "And sorry about your scarf. My Dark Detectors are rather jittery lately… maybe it can be repaired?" gesturing the bit of shredded silk hanging from what looked like a giant antennae sticking out of a hole in the tree in his yard.

            "Oh, not to worry," Charisse reassured him, "Just a little bit ripped. I have loads more. No harm done." She looked down at her watch, "Well, I must go. My father is expecting me at home."

            "Humph! Your father," Moody spat, "One of these days, I'll get him good…"

            Charisse gave him an apologetic smile, and walked off of his property. She walked to the end of the road, and Disapparated back home. A wave of her wand, and the scarf was repaired. No harm done.

            Or so she thought.

*          *          *

            "_Avada__ Kedavra!_" Three hooded, masked figures laughed terribly and triumphantly as Mad-Eye Moody fell to the ground, dead. 

            The first removed his mask, Hector Nott. He turned to a second, and smirked, "Well, Father, we've gotten rid of one of them. Now, we just have to capture the Potter boy and then those damned Mages."

            "I say we look around. Moody might have something… useful… around here." The third Death Eater unmasked, and Mordred Weston gave the fallen Auror a cold look, kicking his stump leg savagely aside. "Hector, Claudius, search in the house. I'll keep watch."

            Twenty minutes later, the two Notts walked out of the house, hands laden with various papers and instruments. "Well, Weston, not too much, but these might be somewhat useful." Hector Nott remarked. 

            "No, it will not be necessary," Mordred Weston's voice was cold as ice, and when he turned around, his eyes were blazing with inhuman fury. "I've found the most useful thing already."

            He held in his hand a fragment of silk. Embroidered in the corner were the initials "CRW".

            "Charisse Regina Weston," Hector whispered with a look of dawning comprehension on his face.

            "The _BITCH!_" Weston hissed. 

*          *          *

Uh-oh…


	12. Death and Discoveries

**NOTES:**

            Now, what's going to happen in this chapter?! Well… several things. A great many of them are not at all happy or pleasant. Sorry.

**DEDICATION:**

            This chapter's dedication is a special one. It shall be made to Zach. We miss you greatly, and shall always remember and love you for your kindness, intelligence and humanity. Rest in peace!

**DISCLAIMER:**

            Warrington isn't mine. I'm just borrowing and glorifying him, and using the opportunity to watch him strut his hot Slytherin stuff. 

~          ~          ~          *          *          *          ~          ~          ~

'Til The End

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            "Who pissed in your cauldron?" the big, dark-haired man smirked at his companion. The second man glowered ferociously.

            "Weston."

            The first man raised an eyebrow, "What?"

            "Charisse Weston. You know, Head Girl with you, blonde…"

            "I know who she is, Nott!" the man rolled his eyes, "Just because I've been hit by a few bludgers doesn't mean that I'm entirely _stupid_. I'm not Ludo Bagman, you know. But did Weston really piss in your cauldron?"

            "The absolute _bitch_…" Hector Nott hissed out between clenched teeth and slammed his tankard down on the table. Several patrons of the Three Broomsticks looked up. 

            "All right, all right… How about we go outside? People are looking at you," his companion remarked.

            "Bugger them all!"

            "Sorry, but I think that might be illegal, and Madam Rosmerta might object. Besides, I don't swing that way," the big man deadpanned. "Still, tell me what happened with Weston; I'm quite curious."

            "You know how I've told you… there's been a mole…."

            "…_NO_…"

            "Yes. _BITCH!_" Nott spat bitterly, "She's been on their side the whole time. But…" and Nott's face took on a look of sadistic anticipation, "She won't be for long…"

            "I see… and dare I ask what you're going to do with her?"

            "Oh, _we_ are not going to do anything. Her father has already informed the Dark Lord. _He_ will deal with her accordingly. We will just watch." Nott smiled cruelly, "I will dearly love to watch her plead for mercy."

            His companion gave a noncommittal shrug, not voicing his belief that the day that Charisse Weston pleaded for mercy would be the day that he, Carl Warrington, would swallow his broomstick. The two men sat for a little while longer, and then Nott left, saying that he had to "prepare for tonight".

            "All right then, goodbye!" Warrington called as the other man strode out of the pub. When the door had shut behind the man, Warrington beckoned for Madam Rosmerta, putting on the smile he generally used when greeting Falcons' fans.

            "Oh Madam Rosmerta, would you happen to have a bit of parchment and a quill I could borrow?" 

*          *          *

            Carl Warrington strode purposefully towards the post office after he had paid for his drink in the Three Broomsticks. He held in his hands a very small piece of parchment, carefully rolled. Entering the post office, he schooled his face into a typical "I'm filthy rich, famous and Slytherin, do as I say" look, and stalked over to the front desk. "The fastest owl you have, please, for London."

            The receptionist at the Post Office nodded, then looked up to see his face. A moment later, she squealed.

            "Aren't you _THE_ Carl Warrington of the Falmouth Falcons?!"

            "Yes I am, woman, kindly desist with the adulation until you have gotten me my owl, if you please," Warrington said impatiently.

            An autograph, a photo and a pair of tickets later, Warrington finally got his owl, and tied his note to its leg. He watched the bird fly out of the post office silently. "All right, let's hope that the feathered beast gets to where it should on time…"

*          *          *

            As a tawny owl was making its way to an office in the Ministry of Magic's Department of Mysteries, Charisse Weston felt a sharp twinge on her forearm. Glancing down, she saw the Dark Mark burning coal-black against the skin of her arm, and hey eyes widened. There was no planned meeting this evening of any sort, to the best of her recollection. Oh, well, she was being summoned, and in order to avoid suspicion, she must go. There was a soft pop, and she Disapparated. 

            Twenty minutes later, an owl landed on her windowsill.

            In the office next door, Cho Chang finished organizing the last of her papers for the day, and glanced at her watch. It was six o'clock in the evening, high time for her to go home and rest. "Hmm, I think that I shall see if Charisse is willing to go and dine with me tonight," she reflected as she stood up and put on her cloak. After gathering her things, she walked out of her office and knocked on the door of Charisse's.

            No answer. Cho frowned. This was highly unusual. She certainly did not hear Charisse leaving. She opened the door slightly, and peered in. No sign of Charisse anywhere, although at the windowsill, a large tawny owl was tapping the pane impatiently, trying to get in.

            Cho opened the window and let the bird fly in. It dropped a small piece of parchment on the desk, and flew out just as quickly as it had come. "Hmm, I guess that she will just have to get to this piece of correspondence tomorrow, then." Cho reflected to herself. 

            She was just about to leave when she noticed that the parchment had partially unrolled itself on the desk, and that a word, written in a vaguely familiar, bold handwriting, in green ink, was visible. _BEWARE._

            Cho's eyes widened, and silently apologizing to Charisse for snooping into her private correspondence, she unrolled the rest of the small sheet of parchment and read the message. And felt her heart drop like a stone to the ground.

            _"BEWARE. YOUR DECEPTION HAS BEEN DISCOVERED. DO NOT OBEY SUMMONS. HE WILL KILL YOU."_

It took Cho only a few minutes to piece together the meaning of the message. Somehow, someone in the Dark Lord's Inner Circle had discovered Charisse's true loyalties, and had informed Voldemort of the spy in their midst. Cho shivered. And Charisse was gone. She must... oh _GOD_... she must have been summoned! She was going to her own death!

            Frantically, Cho ran out of the office into the pensieve room. Making a beeline to Charisse's pensieve, she restlessly sifted through the thoughts siphoned inside, trying to figure out where Death Eater meetings took place.

            An agonizingly long, incalculably precious ten minutes later, she Disapparated from the Ministry for the graveyard.

            Only to be thrown back about fifty feet from where she had tried to go. Apparation wards had been put up. This was not looking good at all. She tore forward. As she went onward, she heard them. The screams... oh, the screams...!

            _"CRUCIO!"_ A high, cold voice that sent chills down her spine, followed by unintelligible feminine shrieks. About two hundred feet away, there stood a circle of black-robed figures, all wearing masks, surrounding a small, crouched figure in the fetal position on the ground. The tallest of the figures, without a mask, red eyes gleaming evilly in the light of the rising moon, had a wand pointed at the figure on the ground. Cho halted. There were ten men there, including the Dark Lord. There was nothing that she could do.

            "It is not a pleasant situation for me to contemplate," Lord Voldemort said coldly as the girl continued to scream, "That one of my Inner Circle... one who had sworn lifelong loyalty to me... was in fact a traitor and a spy. Miss Weston, we had such high hopes for you, too."

            He lifted his wand, and the screams died down to gasps for air. Voldemort continued, "You... Charisse Weston, I had wished to take the place of Regan Lestrange, at least until we had freed her from Azkaban. You... Head Girl... so talented... so much promise for your age... you would have been great indeed. _BUT YOU BETRAYED US!_" the last few words were said in a menacing snarl, and the other black-robed figures made sounds of scorn and hatred, some spitting upon Charisse's trembling form.

            "Do you not have anything to say, Miss Weston? Aren't you going to... beg for mercy?"

            As Cho watched with horror-stricken eyes, Charisse, blanched with pain and still shaking like a leaf in the wind, got to her feet with great effort. There was a thin trail of blood coming from her lips, and her robes were torn to shreds. And yet, there was defiance and pride shining in her pale blue eyes. "I'll die before I beg, Voldemort," she said rather hoarsely, but still in a voice filled with dignity, "You will never win. There will be others, mark my words."

            The red, glowing eyes narrowed into angry slits, and the voice became an icy hiss, "As you wish, then." Voldemort raised his wand, and pointed it directly at Charisse's chest. _"AVADA KEDAVRA!"_

And at that moment, as the blonde girl dropped, lifeless, like a stone to the ground, as the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters Disapparated, Cho Chang, tears streaming down her face, ran forward, completely ignorant or uncaring of the fact that her legs were getting badly bruised from repeated impact with jutting headstones. Nearly blinded by her tears, she fell on her knees to where her friend had fallen a scant few seconds ago.

            _"CHARISSE!"___

But Charisse Weston lay dead on the ground, blonde hair a tangled halo around her head, her face forever frozen in an expression of quiet pride and strength, blue eyes wide and unseeing, fixed unnervingly up at Cho. She was still warm.

            And Cho Chang crouched there by the dead girl's side, in a crumpled heap, crying her eyes out for the second bosom friend that she had lost to the force of evil.

*          *          *

            When she awoke, she was in a hospital bed in St. Mungo's. She sat up, owl-eyed, and saw several sorrowful, familiar faces looking down at her. Cecilia Bode, looking careworn, stood at the foot of her bed. Her mother and father were on her left side. And... someone was holding her hand. Roger.

            It took Cho perhaps a minute to realize what was going on, and to remember all that had happened. The tears started again, falling down silently her face. "Charisse... Charisse... they..."

            "We know," Roger said quietly and sadly, putting an arm around her shoulders for comfort. Cho buried her face in the crook of his neck and sobbed. 

            "I saw... I saw..." she managed to choke out brokenly between sobs. He simply ran a hand slowly up and down her back, in an effort to comfort her.

            The hospital room was entirely silent except for the sound of her tears. Roger simply held her, knowing that there was nothing that he could say or do at the moment. Her head buried in his neck, her shoulders shaking, Cho wept until she was too drained to cry any more.

            And then, Roger spoke, his voice rather husky and deadened, "They had cast the Dark Mark over the graveyard. We went to investigate and found her, and you, unconscious, lying next to her. Cho... I thought you were dead! Your lips had turned blue with the cold." He pulled her slight form into a hug, "Kindly don't do that again, all right?"

            Cecilia continued, "She has been buried. Mordred Weston," and here the Unspeakable spat, as if the name was a vile poison, "held an extravagant funeral for his 'poor daughter'. Gave a fancy, polished, absolutely and disgustingly fake eulogy. She's been buried in the graveyard, though. Not in the family's burial grounds by their manor. She's still an outcast, in death as in life."

            Cho remained silent. Roger looked at her in concern, one arm still around her. "You're to stay here until you're better. You shan't recover until you've rested some more. Ms. Bode here has excused you from work for as long as need be." He gently lay her back down on the bed, and pulled the covers up to her chin.

            She lay and closed her eyes, but didn't relinquish her grip on his hand. And so it was, that he sat next to her, an expression of sorrow and sympathy on his face, he held her hand and tried to give her his strength as she fell into the sleep of exhausted grief that night.

*          *          *

            Meanwhile, unbeknownst to them, Carl Warrington was steadily and methodically getting Hector Nott plastered with Firewhiskey at a rather risqué pub known as "The Shifty Niffler" in Knockturn Alley. Carl had chosen the place very specifically. It was rather pricey, and also rather sleazy. This meant that any goings on that would take place there would not leave the room, and also that no respectable Quidditch-player-crazy females would be found there. True, it would be a kick in the wallet, but Carl Warrington had money to spare. Playing professional Quidditch paid quite well.

            Nott, once sufficiently sloshed, needed no encouragement at all to tell Warrington everything that had happened the night of Charisse's murder. With what would have been a sadistic grin, bleared by the effects of several Firewhiskey shots, the last few infused with truth potion from a vial in Carl's hand, Nott recounted how Charisse had Apparated there, and how himself, his father, her father, Lucius Malfoy, Walden Macnair, Erasmus Parkinson and his father Nigel Parkinson, Demetrius Avery, Xavier Bulstrode and the Dark Lord had interrogated her. Of how she had not denied the charge, and of how the Dark Lord had cast the Cruciatus Curse upon her three times. Of how he, Hector Nott, had come forth and slapped her face as she writhed in pain. Of how all of them had spat at her. 

            "Bloody bitch didn't plead for mercy... what a fool..." Nott slurred. Warrington allowed himself a very small, grim smile.

            "Of course she didn't. And then?"

            Nott gave a drunken leer. "The Dark Lord allowed me, as one of the ones who had found her out to..." his voice died down to become inaudible, and he laughed lecherously, "She didn't even notice... in her pain..."

            Warrington's eyebrows shot up to his hairline, "You... _RAPED_ her... while she was under the Cruciatus Curse..."

            Nott laughed ghoulishly, "She was a virgin too..."

            Warrington remained silent, and gestured for another Firewhiskey. A slip of his hand, and once again, the drink was imbibed with Veritaserum. And then, before he handed the drink to Nott, he took out a sheet of parchment and an exact-quotes quill, laying them down on the seat next to him, the quill poised over the parchment.

            "Wait... Nott, I'm lost... what did you do again?"

            "You've been hit by a few too many bludgers, ole boy..." Nott replied in a drunken voice, "We Summoned her. The Dark Lord cast the Cruciatus Curse upon her. She was a virgin when she arrived, but after I was done with her..." he paused and laughed fiendishly again, "The Dark Lord, my father, her father, Lucius Malfoy, Walden Macnair, Erasmus and Nigel Parkinson, Demetrius Avery and Xavier Bulstrode all watched. The Dark Lord cast the curse on her three times. Then stopped and asked if she would beg for mercy. She didn't, said she'd rather die. He cast the Killing Curse. We Disapparated." Nott gulped down the last of his drink, and slumped, unconscious, on the tabletop, snoring like a hog. 

            Warrington laid a handful of Galleons upon the table, then stood up, his face stonily expressionless. Levitating his companion in front of him, he approached the fireplace at the back of the establishment, and threw in some floo powder. As the fire burned green, he muttered a Memory charm at Nott, and then, threw the unconscious man into the flames, shouting the name of the Nott estate. After watching Nott disappear in front of him, Carl Warrington stalked out of the pub.

*          *          *

            Two days later, Cho Chang left St. Mungo's, a trifle thinner and paler than she had been, but otherwise healthy. A bouquet of white lilies-of-the-valley in her hand, she headed towards the graveyard.

            Charisse had been buried under the boughs of a weeping willow at the western side of the cemetery. Cho walked slowly towards the spot, then stopped about thirty feet away, rubbing her eyes in surprise.

            She was not the only visitor to the grave. Standing by the headstone was a tall, stalwart man with dark hair. He bent down, and dropped something at the foot of the grave. Just as he stood up, he turned his head slightly, and Cho's eyes widened in recognition.

            _"Carl Warrington?!"___

            She quickly made her way forward to ask him what he was doing here, but before she had gone two steps, he had Disapparated with a pop. Something told her that she would not be seeing him again.

            Rather dazedly, Cho walked forward, until she was standing in the same spot that Warrington... _was_ it Warrington…? had vacated a moment ago. She knelt to set her flowers down, and gasped softly. 

            Lying at the foot of her grave, polished as shiny as if it were brand new, winking up at her in the sunlight, was Charisse's Head Girl badge.

            Her flowers forgotten, Cho Apparated to the entrance of Hogwarts.

*          *          *

            Minutes later, she was sitting in the circular office of Professor Dumbledore, who gazed at her with a benevolent but careworn smile. "Miss Chang, a pleasure. Is there something I could help you with?"

            "Professor Dumbledore... I... you've heard of the death of Charisse Weston...?" Cho asked. 

            Dumbledore nodded his head gravely, "She died bravely and heroically. The good people in the wizarding world will miss her."

            Cho nodded, and wondered what the best way was for her to ask her question. Finally, she spoke again, softly, "I visited her grave today."

            Dumbledore looked at her steadily, "Ah, so. You might have met Mr. Warrington there."

            "So it _was_ Warrington..." Cho muttered, half to herself. Dumbledore nodded.

            "Mr. Warrington came to my office early this morning. Imagine my surprise, for according to Madam Hooch, he should probably have been at Quidditch practice, as it was the beginning of a new season. But, here he was, and he told me that he had something that might be of great interest to me, and he would give it to me quite willingly if I would do a favor for him.

            I was quite surprised when I saw what it was that he gave me. It was a piece of parchment with an account of a conversation he had with a Mr. Hector Nott, who seemed to have been a friend of his."

            Cho grimaced. Nott was a Death Eater. Dumbledore continued.

            "It was written by an exact-quotes quill, and gave the names and a recounting of exactly what had transpired that night of Miss Weston's murder. Mr. Warrington said that Mr. Nott had been under the influence of Veritaserum, and that this was exactly what he had revealed. I have heard that you had seen the end portion of her ordeal, but... perhaps it is best that you did not see all of it." Dumbledore shook his head sadly, before concluding, "In any case, Mr. Warrington, after handing me the information, and telling me that I could give it to whomever I wished, made a most peculiar request in exchange. He asked that I give him Miss Weston's Head Girl badge. I do not know what he had planned to do with it. Perhaps he means to keep it as a souvenir of their collaboration as Head Boy and Head Girl of their class?"

            Cho found herself rendered absolutely speechless.

~          ~          ~          *          *          *          ~          ~          ~

_ REVIEW!!_


	13. Aftermath and Astronomy

**NOTES:**

In this chapter, we have the aftermath of Charisse's death, along with more Roger, Jing-Li and Draco.

**DEDICATION:**

            This chapter is dedicated to Erica, Hermione of the Hogwarts rp on livejournal. W00t for rpgs!

**DISCLAIMER:**

            You'll notice when you go to watch Chamber of Secrets that they don't have a page in the credits that says "All hail the Thalist Deity, Supreme Ruler of the Potterverse". 

~          ~          ~          *          *          *          ~          ~          ~

'Til The End

~          ~          ~          *          *          *          ~          ~          ~

            It had been a month of gray. Gray for the cheerless December skies. Gray for the glutinous potions from Professor Snape for dreamless sleep. Gray for the feathers on the Great Horned Owl that had arrived with the news. Gray for father's spit darkening the white surface of an ostentatious marble goddess headstone that didn't suit at all. Gray for the nearly healed bruises from Marius Nott of his year, who believed that he would be treacherous like 'Risse had been... whose brother had been one of the ones... whose brother had defiled 'Risse while father had watched on coldly. Gray for the crosses made on the Quidditch schedules by Madam Hooch, putting the Slytherin games off 'til the end of the year, because the team was nothing without a focused captain.

            Gray was uncertain and nebulous. Gray was numb and deadened. 

            Anthony Weston was drowning in gray. 

            He hated Herbology. Professor Sprout was so unkempt and ridiculously _sickly sweet,_ and he had that class with a bunch of stupid Gryffindorks. But… when he had gotten the news, he had swallowed all his distaste, and asked Professor Sprout for a bunch of white damask roses, because 'Risse had loved them. He'd had to tell her why he wanted them, then put up with her infernal gushing about the "unlucky dear soul" and "you poor boy".

            Father had narrowed his eyes when he'd brought them to the funeral. He'd kept quiet about it, though, until after everyone had left. Then, he'd obliterated them with an _Incendio_ and told Anthony in no uncertain terms that that… perfidious _WHORE_… did not deserve flowers or mourning. And that if he, Anthony, were ever to mention her again, there would be hell to pay.

            Thankfully for him, or perhaps not really… his housemates, most of them, had not given him too much trouble over it. Besides a few like Marius Nott, most of them assumed that his anger and gloom was due to shock and humiliation at the fact that his sister had been a traitor to the Inner Circle. Some approached him with the intention to comfort and told him that at least she had been exterminated before it went any further. Those few foolish, brave souls had left covered with hex marks, and then, they all assumed that he didn't want to hear her name at all.

            It was his fourth year. He had had hopes… expectations, indeed, to make Prefect next year. He would do a much better job than 'Risse, too. _He_ would not become a disgrace to his family. 

            He should not be here, alone, in his dormitory right now. It was time for Astronomy class, and he'd skivved that off twice already. But something about that class just bugged him. Looking unceasingly up at the heavens. The heavens were constant. Oblivious. No matter what happened in his, or anyone else's life, Polaris would always point north. 

            And moreover… the heavens. 'Risse had told him once, when he was a little boy, that their mother, whom he had never met, was watching over the two of them, 'Risse had told him, and she would make sure that the two of them would be all right. 

            A pack of lies, all. 'Risse had been a bloody, damned liar. Their mother had not been nearly as virtuous as she would have him believe, and he knew it. There was a picture of her, a masterfully drawn, almost photographic oil on canvas hanging over the fireplace in the main hall of the manor. She was tall and honey-blonde and blue-eyed, dressed in black silk edged with silver, her wavy hair bound in black pearls. 'Risse looked like her, especially when she wore fancy robes given to her by father, before… But Augusta Weston had been more beautiful than her daughter. But… the thin brows over the cold ice-blue eyes were low and drawn together in a disapproving look. And when she moved her arm (only when certain people were around), there was a skull and snake marring the skin. No indeed. Augusta Weston was not anywhere close to heaven.

            Was 'Risse in heaven?  Even though she was a liar and a traitor and a hypocrite, he had an awful feeling that she was, indeed, up there. He didn't want to see or think about that. 

            He would never be in heaven. Because… no matter what, he had to survive. And… surviving meant living the life that he was meant to live, dying at a ripe old age with lots and lots of money and power, and going to hell with the rest of the demons, where he belonged.

            And as a disgruntled Professor Sinistra shook her head and marked another absence in her book, Una Markham, biting her lip slightly, frowned at the empty seat of the boy who had done nothing but made her life miserable.

*          *          *

            Jing-Li was now quite certain that if she did not die during any battle or skirmish, she would perish in Azkaban for _legally_ unjustifiable murder. Of course, said murder would be justified. But… it would be rather difficult to explain to the authorities that Draco Malfoy, the Death Eater fugitive that she was sheltering, had knowingly pissed her off, and therefore, she felt it necessary to hex him from head to foot, then hang him by his toes. 

            It had now been two months that he had been here. Although he no longer complained about the lack of silk sheets and other luxuries (most likely due to the fact that she had threatened to pull his hair out strand by silvery blond strand if he did), he still did everything in his power to annoy her. Jing-Li was starting to think that the young man was something of a masochist.

            She was quite frequently making use of all the English profanity that Cho had taught her last year. 

            She had been occupied in trying to teach the child that had been saved the same night that Draco Malfoy had how to dress himself. She'd cast shrinking spells on several spare tunics donated by the Mages, and made them to fit the child. They were making progress, until Draco Malfoy had once again popped his unwelcome face in, and proceeded to say that the poor boy had no decent clothing and naturally this had caused the child to cry and become unruly. It was not until she had charmed the tunics to blaze with bright colors and patterns that the boy would listen once again to her instructions. The handsome face of her harbored fugitive had taken on a most infuriatingly triumphant smile, and she was quite hard-pressed not to slap him.

            Right now, her irritating fugitive was lounging lazily against a tree, watching her spar with another Mage. Jing-Li forced herself to ignore the obnoxious, smirking young man and concentrate instead on blocks, strikes and kicks. The other Mage jabbed two fingers forward and nearly caught her in the neck, and she put all thoughts of aggravating fugitives out of her mind except to pretend that her opponent was one. Narrowing her eyes, she leapt nimbly into the air and within minutes, had the other Mage flat on his back on the ground, her wand pointed at his head. 

            "Rawr!" The man by the tree uttered, "Fierce little one, aren't you?"

            Jing-Li balled her fist and shot him a positively lethal look. "I am not little. And you annoy me again, I break your arm."

            He put up one hand in defense, "Simmer down, _xiao__ ye mao_." Little wildcat. 

            Jing-Li's eyes blazed. "Who taught you? How _DARE_ you refer to me in such disrespectful and familiar way? _Ta ma de_…"

            At that moment, before she could make good her threat, a popping sound signaled the arrival of someone at the Apparition point at the front of the camp. Jing-Li's eyes widened, and she swore under her breath for a moment before hissing to Draco, "What are you standing there for? Get in tent right _now!_ People do not know you are here!"

            Draco gave her one last lingering look as he tucked himself out of sight in a tent. "The nickname suits," he said softly, out of her earshot as she went to meet whoever it was who had just Apparated into the Mage camp.

            Jing-Li's mind was still full of wrathful thoughts when she had made her way to the front of the Mage camp. Muttering choice things about what she would do to Draco Malfoy when she had finished talking to whoever it was that had just arrived, she was quite startled when a male voice, with no trace of a Chinese accent of any sort, addressed her somewhat amusedly, "Is this a bad time?"

            She looked up to see a dark-haired young man, perhaps a few years older than herself, in Auror's robes, smiling down at her in amusement. "You must be the Mage leader of this camp. I am Roger Davies, it is an honor to meet you, Miss…?"

            "Zhao, but call me Jing-Li," she replied crisply, greeting the Auror in the traditional way, palm down and flat over closed fist, inclining her head in a half-bow. "What brings you here today?"

            Davies grew serious, and asked if there was any place where they could talk in private. She considered for a moment, then led him further into camp. "We should be all right here. Now, please tell me what you wanted to let me know."

            "You know, of course, of the Unspeakable spy in the Inner Circle who had been discovered?" Roger asked in a low voice. Jing-Li nodded soberly.

            "I have heard that she was killed by the Dark Lord," she replied. "Beyond that, I do not know much about her."

            "She went to Hogwarts. A year under me, same house." Roger sighed, "She was killed very brutally, and raped by a Death Eater named Hector Nott while being tortured by the Cruciatus curse."

            Jing-Li's eyes widened, then narrowed. "Hector Nott…… Wait, he has thin face, dark hair, rather sharp nose, friends with Falmouth Falcons Chaser who was Head Boy Cho's sixth year?"

            "Yes, how did you know?" Roger looked at her with not a little surprise on his face.

            She nodded grimly, "I met those two once. The Chaser was very… what is the word… impudent… but Nott was quite worse. I had to cast flea hex on him. He is the rapist, no?" 

            Roger nodded, and Jing-Li abruptly turned her face away, hissing some very profane and gruesome words in Chinese to herself. Composing herself, she turned back to him and gave him a curt nod. "I accept. I will gather ten of my top Mages, and you may meet us here on the appointed day."

            "All right. Thank you for your help, Jing-Li," Roger said. "I will see you in two weeks. Until then, good luck."

            "Farewell," Jing-Li replied, and walked the Auror back to the Apparition point. After he Disapparated, she went back to her tent, to find Draco Malfoy sitting on her cot as if it were a throne, and… her eyes narrowed into slits.

            "Malfoy, are you eating _my_ lunch?"

            He nodded, not ceasing to chew and swallow the dumpling in his mouth. "It was the closest one around."

            She glared, "Look, I have been training all morning, taking care of a little child, and planning possibly life-threatening missions with an Auror, and you have been idle. And yet, you will eat my lunch! _Ma la zhen!_"

            She waved her wand at the plateful of dumplings in Draco's lap, and Draco, not seeing the spell, placed one in his mouth, only to spit it out a moment later, eyes watering, fanning his mouth frantically.

            "_What the DEVIL is that?! Woman, did you just POISON the dumplings?!_"

            Jing-Li allowed herself a sneer and laughed, "I just replaced the filling with Szechuan peppers. Very spicy, enough to numb mouth."

            He glared at her, but could not make any reply, as he was too busy coughing and trying to stop his eyes from watering. She simply waved her hand as she went to fetch another lunch, and said airily, "Your name means Dragon, and dragons breathe fire. You should thank me for help."

            Draco, gulping down tea from a nearby thermos in an effort to stop his mouth from burning, watched as she flounced away, head held high, a wisp of black hair escaping from the severe-looking bun. A smile bloomed slowly at the corners of his lips.

            _"Xiao ye mao."_

*          *          *

            Two weeks later found Jing-Li and a group of her fellow Mages perched atop the roof of the Weston estate. Jing-Li thanked the heavens profusely that the mansion was done in a typically gaudy and ornamented Gothic style: their perfectly still, crouched forms, in the darkness of the night, were practically indistinguishable from the gargoyles adorning the building. 

            Jing-Li glanced down at her watch. Nine o'clock. The Notts, senior and junior, had arrived for dinner two hours earlier. Therefore, they would be coming back out soon, likely within the next hour. Most likely, they would have had some alcohol as well. She would then deal with them, and the others would disable the Apparation wards around the building. Meanwhile, the scuffle would cause the mansion's master to come out, and at that moment, the Aurors would be able to Apparate in, and capture him.

            And in the meantime, she would… _deal_… with Hector Nott.

            Sure enough, as a clock somewhere in the building chimed the hour of ten o'clock, the gates opened, and Claudius and Hector Nott walked out. The two were both walking slowly out towards the gate, heads down, and did not notice the small, lithe figure leaping from atop a spire to the branches of a tree overhead.

            Jing-Li gave a hoot uncannily like that of a screech owl, signaling to the others, and then leapt straight downward. 

            The moment that the two Notts realized that someone had just jumped down in front of them, the other Mages all had their wands out, and the sound of many voices speaking incantations filled the air. As Claudius looked at the shimmering, slowly-disappearing wards around the manor, Hector's eyes widened with dawning comprehension as they met with Jing-Li's, above the dark kerchief concealing the rest of her face.

            "We meet again, Death Eater," she greeted coldly. He had his wand out in a flash, but then, so did she. "And this time, you shall not run."

            "_Avada__ -"_ he started to say, but before he could finish the fatal incantation, she had whipped out a steel-backed fan with her other hand and brought it down upon his wand, breaking it off at the tip. Nott cursed, and Jing-Li narrowed her eyes.

            "Cruelty such as yours cannot remain unpunished," she hissed, and lunged at him with the fan with one hand, pointing her wand at his head with the other. _"Nao jiang beng lie!"_

            As Nott doubled over from the blow that she had struck in his side with her fan, he felt the onset of a headache. A headache that grew with every second. He dropped his broken wand, and clutched at his head with both hands. And stilled, eyes bulging in horror. Was his head getting... larger?!

            As if reading his thoughts, the Mage leader spoke to him in the same merciless voice as the last time they'd met, at Crabbe and Goyle's ill-fated Initiation, "Curse translates roughly to brain fluids bursting out. Skull expanding, brain with it inside skull. Skull will soon explode, blowing your head to pieces, brains leak out. Very painful death."

            And as Hector Nott fell to the ground, howling and writhing in every-increasing agony, the Mage Leader coolly cast a leg-locker curse upon him, and then turned around to hit the back of his father's head, rendering him immediately unconscious.

            Just as Mordred Weston stepped outside with wand drawn to investigate a detected breach in the wards, Roger Davies, leading a group of Aurors including Padma Patil, Justin Finch-Fletchley and Angela Snow, hit him with a stunning spell. A moment later, Jing-Li, levitating Claudius Nott's unconscious form in front of her, joined him, removing her kerchief from her face. "A successful endeavor."

            Roger nodded, and watched in horrified fascination as Hector Nott's head burst open at the base of the skull before his very eyes, blood and brains leaking out and splattering the cobblestones underneath him. "Exactly... what...?"

            "He was going to hit me with Killing Curse. I fight back with a most severe Mage curse," Jing-Li said matter-of-factly.

            Roger nodded weakly, "You do realize that if you had performed the Killing Curse, I would have no choice but to take you to Azkaban, right?"

            Jing-Li allowed herself a grim smile, "I am aware. Therefore, I did not perform Killing Curse." She glanced at the Aurors, and lowered Claudius Nott to the ground. "I believe that my work is done here. You can take these two in to question, then take them to the Dementors. I bid you good-night, and you may tell Cho that her friend has been avenged."

            Saying so, she gathered the other Mages, and the group Disapparated from the grounds. 

*          *          *

            And so it was that three more Death Eaters were vanquished. And that night, a small fourth-year Ravenclaw girl made a wish on a falling star that, perhaps, just perhaps, someone with whom she shared a mutual loathing, could be saved. 

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REVIEW!!


	14. Skeletons in the Closet

**NOTES:**

            In this chapter, we have much Una, and meet a current Ravenclaw Prefect. Well, you've met her before, but you might not remember... Oh yes, and Fleur. Much discussion goes on between the Hogwarts faculty...

**DEDICATION:**

            This chapter is dedicated to Gemini, for being an awesome mod, having fun Roggie discussions with me, and just being very cool overall.

**DISCLAIMER:**

            If I owned them, the sexier Death Eaters would have the words "Thalia's bitch" tattooed on their forearms, not a skull and snake. 

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'Til The End

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            "Gumdrop," Minerva McGonagall muttered to the gargoyle by Dumbledore's office. The stone creature moved over and let her pass into the office. 

            Several faculty members were already there, and she sat down stiffly next to Sorrel Sprout. Albus Dumbledore sat at his desk, and waited for all of the teachers to arrive. Finally, after everyone had walked into the circular office and taken a seat, Dumbledore cleared his throat to start the weekly staff meeting.

            "Good evening, all. I hope that everyone is well?"

            A random assortment of polite affirmative responses greeted this inquiry. Professor Sinistra made a rather discontented noise, and Dumbledore picked up on it immediately.

            "Celesta, is there something the matter?"

            The Astronomy Professor gave a slight shrug, "I'm just rather concerned about one of my students. He has not been showing up in class much as of late, and according to his housemates, spends his evenings cooped up in his dormitory. Please tell me, is there something wrong with him?"

            Albus Dumbledore gave her a rather probing look, "I assume that you refer to Anthony Weston, fourth year Slytherin?"

            Celesta Sinistra gave a slight nod, and the Headmaster sighed, "Severus, has he spoken to you or anyone else yet?"

            The Potions master shook his head solemnly. "He avoids me. But then… I was friends with his father, and he knows it."

            Several of the other teachers looked confused, and Celesta Sinistra spoke up, "Well, I'm just worried about him. I'm sure that his father would not want him to fail Astronomy and ruin his chances of making Prefect next year, but the way that it has been, I don't know what I can do about it. And Severus, Albus… what is this about being friends with his father, and what does it have to do with anything?"

            Albus Dumbledore sighed again, and opened the cupboard in which his pensieve lay. He tapped it with his wand, and a blurry, broad-shouldered form emerged from the silvery depths, to come into focus a moment later.

            Madam Hooch, sitting next to Fleur Delacour-Weasley, widened her eyes, "Carl Warrington?!"

            "Shh, just watch," the Headmaster replied. 

The teachers watched as an apparition of Dumbledore greeted Warrington, who was garbed in Falmouth Falcons robes and had a grim expression on his face.

_"Mr. Warrington, this is an unexpected pleasure. Please, sit down."_

_            The apparition of Warrington shook his head, "I'm not here for a social call", he said bluntly._

            The apparition of Dumbledore nodded, and gestured for him to continue. Warrington fished in his pocket, and extracted a roll of parchment and a quill. "This is something that might be of interest to you," he spoke in the same toneless voice, "You, being the person that you are, must know Charisse Weston."

_            "Yes, of course, she was Head Girl with you, Ravenclaw. One of the best Potions students we'd ever had, like yourself."_

_            "She's dead."_

_            Albus' apparition gaped in shock, "W-what?" Warrington made an impatient noise._

_            "Look, I know what she was. She was a Death Eater. And a spy for you and the Aurors and those Chinese Mages. She's dead. She's been discovered. They slaughtered her. Need I say more?"_

_            "Yes… you do," Albus replied softly, "You must tell me how you know this."_

_            "Oh, of course…" Warrington said in a voice laced with bitter sarcasm, "How COULD I forget? How DO you think I know?"_

_            "Well…usually, normal people are not privy to this type of information," Albus started. Warrington gave another impatient snort._

_            "If you're suggesting that I'm a Death Eater, the answer is no." Warrington dropped the sheet of parchment casually on Dumbledore's desk, and rolled up his sleeves. "Look. No tattoo. Well, not there anyway…" he jibed._

_            "Then…"_

_            "I'm friends with Hector bloody Nott. You know, he was Keeper on the Slytherin team. Son of Claudius Nott. I'm sure you remember him. I'm friends with him. He told me. He was kind of THERE when it took place."_

_            "And… he told you? And you're telling me? You must understand if I find this a little bit curious. Especially if you say that you two are friends."_

_            Warrington rolled his eyes and slid the sheet of parchment that he'd dropped on Dumbledore's desk forward. "This was written with an exact-quotes quill. If you read it, you will understand why I'm doing this. Afterwards, you may do whatever the hell you wish with the information; I don't particularly care."_

_            Dumbledore unrolled the sheet of parchment and read it over quickly. He remained silent for a few moments, then looked at Warrington, whose expression was unreadable. "Thank you, Mr. Warrington. This was a very noble thing for you to do."_

_            "Forget that, I don't need your praise." Warrington brushed it off. "I just want one thing in exchange."_

_            "And what would that be?"_

_            "Weston's Head Girl Badge." Warrington said bluntly, "Give it here."_

_            Albus Dumbledore gave him another piercing look, but the former Slytherin's expression was entirely unreadable. Finally, silently, the Headmaster pointed his wand at a rosewood cupboard in the corner of the room, and the door opened. A silver badge, shining like a star in the dim room, floated out. Warrington caught it securely in one hand, and turned on his heel, making his way towards the door of the office._

_            At the door, he turned back to look at the Headmaster for a brief moment. "Oh, and you never saw me." _

With that, Warrington disappeared, and the pensieve settled.

            Albus Dumbledore extracted the sheet of parchment from his desk, and pointed his wand at it. Nott's drunken, gleeful voice floated out, "We Summoned her. The Dark Lord cast the Cruciatus Curse upon her. She was a virgin when she arrived, but after I was done with her… The Dark Lord, my father, her father, Lucius Malfoy, Walden Macnair, Erasmus and Nigel Parkinson, Demetrius Avery and Xavier Bulstrode all watched. The Dark Lord cast the curse on her three times. Then stopped and asked if she would beg for mercy. She didn't, said she'd rather die. He cast the Killing Curse. We Disapparated."

            Dead silence. Albus Dumbledore continued, "Anthony Weston has lost his sister in a most brutal fashion, and when he returns home, he will return to a father who was there, coldly watching on, as said sister was tortured and killed. He probably has a lot to sort out, and likely will not know how exactly to deal with his father when he goes back home." 

            And at that moment, the fireplace in his office suddenly flared into life, and Roger Davies' careworn face appeared in the flames. "Sorry, Headmaster, professors, for my interruption. But Anthony Weston will not be going home to his father."

            Dead silence greeted this statement and appearance. Finally, Professor Dumbledore spoke up.

            "Mr. Davies, exactly what do you mean?"

            Roger stepped forward through the fireplace, dusted himself off, and glanced at every surprised face in turn. Professor Flitwick, his old Head of House was clutching the handles of the chair that he was standing on, his eyes wide with incredulity. Fleur, her face rather softer and older than he'd remembered, her formerly long, luscious blonde mane now cut to a practical bob, stared at him, her mouth open in astonishment, her eyes filled with sympathy. The faces of the other teachers all registered shock, except for one. Severus Snape simply met Roger's gaze with steadfast, impassive one of his own, one that showed resignation and expectance. 

            Once more, Dumbledore spoke up, addressing Roger in a quiet voice, "I take it that you captured Mordred Weston, then."

            Roger nodded somberly, "We had a cooperation with the Mage troop stationed here. The Mage leader, along with ten others from that group, along with myself and a group of other Aurors, went on a raid tonight. Hector Nott was killed in the fray, when he was about to cast the Killing Curse on the Mage leader. The others have been apprehended. It is likely that they will be given to the Dementors. All in all, I believe that, by Christmastime, Anthony Weston will no longer have a father."

            Roger finished his explanation and gazed at the teachers with a hint of trepidation on his otherwise expressionless face. Finally, Severus Snape spoke up once more, his voice resigned, "I'll inform him. I don't know just how he is going to take it… but… it's my duty as head of Slytherin house. And… we shall have to see what to do with him this summer. Mordred Weston probably left him quite sufficient funds, but he has no guardian."

            Minerva McGonagall frowned slightly, "And… any relatives?"

            Severus Snape sighed, "He has an uncle on his mother's side. But… not exactly an improvement upon his father, if you catch my drift."

            Filius Flitwick's eyes widened in dawning recognition, "Demetrius Avery. They were cousins of the same year in school."

            Snape nodded grimly, "Of course… I will have to offer the young Mr. Weston that choice, but…"

            Fleur suddenly jumped to her feet, a look of indignation on her beautiful face, "But… ze poor boy… 'e is vairy intelligent! 'E can be more zan zat, surely! Letting 'im live wis a decent family might actually allow 'im to reconsider all ze trash zat 'e 'ad been taught! But sending 'im to live wis zat Deas Eater… zat is just dooming 'im, non?"

            Snape scowled at her, "Do you think that I do not know this? But what else is there to do? He has no other living relatives! He might have inherited his father's money, but he's too young to be without a guardian. Sometimes, sacrifices will have to be made."

            Now, Fleur matched his glare with one of her own. "'E would be better off _wisout a guardian zan wis a guardian like Demetrius Avery," she maintained firmly._

            "Well, what can we do about it? Are _you going to adopt him?" Snape sneered._

            Fleur suddenly stilled in her seat, and then, turned to the Potions Master with a determined look on her face, her chin jutting out, her eyes blazing with powerful conviction, "If I can, I will by all means."

            Needless to say, the staff meeting ended in utter confusion. Albus Dumbledore dismissed the faculty as calmly as he could, only telling Severus Snape, Fleur and Roger to stay behind. The Headmaster turned to Fleur, a curious look in the kind old eyes behind the golden spectacles. "Fleur... you... you seriously want to adopt Anthony Weston? What about your daughter, and young Gabrielle? What will Bill say?"

            The part-veela gave a smile, "I'm sure zat Bill will not mind; 'e 'imself came from a large family, non? Besides, 'e... well... it's razzer 'ard to explain..." she took a deep breath, "Veela can sense some sings zat per'aps might not be apparent to ozers. And... I really don't sink zat ze boy, zough 'e came from zat family, is as bad as 'e might let us believe. Besides..." and here she grinned, "Wisin sree mons of living wis Gabrielle and I, I quite believe zat we can make a gentleman out of 'im."

            Dumbledore nodded slowly, and gave the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor a small smile, "Well, if this is what you want... Severus, when you go and inform young Anthony, make sure to tell him of Fleur's offer." 

            The Head of Slytherin House nodded, and swept off, black robes billowing behind him. Dumbledore turned back to the other two, "Roger, it is quite late, and you've already gone through enough tonight. I think that it would be best if you stayed here for tonight, and perhaps even tomorrow, to take a rest." The old man's voice was gentle, but booked no argument. "Fleur, perhaps you could show him to some quarters in the faculty wing."

            "Yes, Professor Dumbly-dorr," Fleur turned to Roger, and gave him a small smile, a smile that, perhaps five years ago, might have made him melt into a puddle of incoherent goo. But... no more. She was married and he... he had changed. Everything had changed. He was a man now, and beauty, for him, had a different meaning than blonde hair and perfect features. "Follow me."

            Roger followed her down the corridor and up one flight of stairs. Several portraits lining the walls beamed when they saw him, one remarking that he needed to cut his hair. Fleur gave a light chuckle, "So, 'ow 'ave you been? It 'as been years since we 'ad last seen each ozer."

            Roger shrugged, "I'm an Auror. It's a hard job, but..." he broke off. Fleur cocked her head to the side slightly, and waited for him to continue. "Well, I hadn't really planned to become an Auror. I was just going to work at the Ministry in the Department of Developmental Charms, or possibly go into professional Quidditch... but... you remember, what happened at the end of the Triwizard Tournament."

            Fleur nodded, "Yes. Zat poor 'Ufflepuff boy was keeled by ze Dark Lord. I remember... Cho, zat pretty petite fille chinoise; she 'ad been devastated."

            Roger nodded, "Cho. Yes, she had been devastated." His eyes took on a faraway look as he recalled his Seeker, her sweet, forlorn face like that of a lost child, big, glimmering brown eyes brimming with tears as she had sat at the Parting Feast, leaning slightly on Sarah Fawcett's shoulder. The memory made him flinch involuntarily. Cho... Cho Chang, who used to sneak behind him when he was studying into the wee small hours of the morning and ruffle his hair, admonishing him in that sweet-stern way of hers to go to bed, they had Quidditch practice the next day. She had looked like that after Charisse's death too. Well... after she had returned to consciousness. Pulling his mind away from the memories, he looked back at Fleur, "She was my Seeker. And the best ruddy Seeker we'd ever had. And more... she was my friend. You know, she never cried even when she'd been battered in a Quidditch game, arm broken and knocked from her broom. It was frankly scary to see her cry... Well, here we are today. We've all grown up, I think."

            Fleur nodded, and then, she stopped at a portrait of a lady sitting underneath a weeping willow. "Queen of 'Earts," she spoke, and the portrait opened up to reveal a medium-sized, beautifully furnished parlor done in opulent burgundy and bronze, in a stately, almost oriental style, with several beautifully carved teak tables and bureaus. She turned back to Roger, "Zis is one of ze guest quarters. Zere is a bedroom, and a washroom as well in ze back." She pointed her wand into the room, "_Incendio._" A fireplace flared to life, and several lamps turned on, casting a bright but muted light upon the room. "Well, good night, Roger."

            "Good night." He coolly shook the hand that she held out, and walked into the room, gently closing the portrait behind him.

*          *          *

            The following afternoon, there was a rather unusual minor disturbance in Ravenclaw Tower. Una Markham was methodically finishing up a Charms essay by the fire when fifth-year Prefect Orla Quirke rushed in, her eyes wide and awed, her face flushed slightly. Una raised an eyebrow. "Say, Orla, why do you look like you've just won the lottery?"

            "Won the lottery?"

            Una shrugged, "Never mind. Muggle thing. But… what has happened?"

            The Prefect plopped down on one of the blue velvet couches. "I just came from tutoring sessions for Defense with Professor Weasley."

            "Yes… so? You always go for tutoring sessions. No reason to get overexcited." 

            The older girl gave Una a slightly patronizing look, "This time it was different. Do you know…" the girl lowered her voice to a thrilling whisper, "We have a real _AUROR_ here at this school right now!"

            "Oh?"

            Orla gave the younger girl a look of disbelief, "A real Auror! And he's such a good one too! He's a hero!!"

            Una gave a light shrug, "So? Harry Potter used to go to this school. He was the Boy Who Lived. He's training to be an Auror now, too. No big deal, really. Why, I played against him and his team in Quidditch."

            "You and your Quidditch…" Orla gave a half-dramatic, half-indulgent sigh, "This one is different. He's a _RAVENCLAW. And_ he used to be Quidditch captain before Cho. Even _you_ should appreciate that."

            "Oh, it's him. Roger Davies," Una said nonchalantly, watching in not a little amusement as Orla's face took on a look of idolatry and awe. "What's he doing here? And how d'you know he's here?"

            Orla smiled rather smugly, "I just saw him. He was leaving, and he had to give some papers to Professor Weasley. He looked so… so imposing! And… I overheard why he's here… he's really such a hero…"

            Una rolled her eyes very slightly to herself, "Yes, yes. I'm sure he is. A great lot of Aurors _are_ heroes. But why was he here? Isn't he supposed to be working or something of the sort?"

            Orla made a rather impatient little noise, "He was. He just went on a raid last night. The poor man came to report something to Dumbledore. Two Death Eaters were captured, and one of them was the father of a student. A student in _your_ year, no less!" Now Una's interest was peaked, and she leaned forward slightly.

            "Really? Who?"

            Orla glanced around, and making sure that no one was listening, whispered, "Anthony Weston. His father was a Death Eater, and his sister had joined them, but as a spy. She got found out and killed, and somehow, news leaked out on who had been responsible for the killing. The Ministry authorized a raid, and they caught Mr. Weston and two other Death Eaters. One of the Death Eaters got killed, and the others are in Azkaban, they're going to get the Dementor's kiss. Anthony's going to be totally orphaned by Christmastime, and Professor Weasley offered to adopt him. Because… well," and here, the Prefect gave a little sniff, "the only _other_ people who might take him are Death Eaters as well."

            Una's eyes widened, "And…?"

            "Snape told Anthony, it seems, and I guess that he was all right with it. Anyway, Mr. Davies had gone back to the Ministry to get the necessary papers, and he was just giving them to Professor Weasley. He even spoke to me! Smiled and told me to keep up the good work! He knew my name and everything! He's such a nice Auror… and so brave…"

            As the usually-serious Orla went into a worshipful panegyric about Aurors in general and one individual Auror in particular, Una sat back down in front of fire, but her Charms essay was forgotten. 

            Mordred Weston, Death Eater, captured. Charisse… murdered. Anthony Weston had been avoiding everyone and everything for the past month. No wonder, now. Hmph! Just like a Slytherin, too! A snake burying itself underground when the world gets harsh. Frozen.

            But human snakes… must be a miserable existence.

            Someone… _anyone…_needed to shake some sense into that boy. Preferably as soon as possible.

            She would have a talk with Professor Sinistra tonight.

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REVIEW!!!!


	15. Prejudice, Pride and Owl Post

**NOTES:**

In this chapter, there will be much Anthony and Una, Draco and Jing-Li, and... yes, Roger and Cho. 

**DEDICATION:**

This chapter is dedicated to the amazing Terra, yet another reviewer whom I have forced to listen to my psychobabble bullshit about this fic, certain characters, etc. 

**DISCLAIMER:**

If you manage to find the Sex-God on a Broomstick known as C. Warrington, will you convince him to tattoo "Property of Thalia" on his arse? 

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'Til The End

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_Owl from R. Davies to C. Chang, 5 December_

_Cho,_

Sorry that I've not written in so long. I'm sure that by now, you've heard of the capture of Mordred Weston and Claudius Nott. After I'd received that information surrounding Charisse's death, I took my group of Aurors and joined with a group of Shen-Wu Mages and we raided the Weston Mansion. The Mage leader killed Hector Nott in the fray, as he tried to fire the Killing Curse at her. Last week, the Mage Leader, several Ministry members, and myself witnessed them receiving the Dementor's Kiss.

Charisse has been avenged. 

But... I do not feel proud. I wish that all of this never had to happen. Merlin... if none of this happened, where would we be now? Rather than becoming the jaded Auror and world-weary Unspeakable that we are today, perhaps we would be living happy, complacent, homey lives. Perhaps... perhaps neither of us would ever have to witness the blood, death and violence that make up our lives today. Maybe it is blasphemy for an Auror to say this... but I wish that it were over.

I had joined the Aurors' Guild so that I could do my part in stopping the violence and tragedy that had torn our carefree world apart and caused so many people so much pain and heartbreak. But... now, with the blood of Merlin knows how many people on my hands, directly or indirectly... even if they might have deserved it a thousand times over... I just feel sick sometimes. Do you ever get that feeling? I hope not... but I won't try to deceive myself.

I wish that both of us could go back to those days when all we worried about were end of term exams and Quidditch. And when you... when we smiled. Everyday. And meant it.

But enough of this wishful thinking. It is the life that I have chosen, and I do not regret choosing it. Today, we have finished combing down the Weston Mansion. After all the Dark Arts instruments and such had been removed and confiscated, the mansion has been closed for now, although we let the house-elves remain and keep it clean, until Anthony is of age to inherit it in four years. Besides that, the boy has five hundred thousand Galleons inheritance, to be granted two hundred per annum until he is of age to inherit the principle. He shall certainly not want for anything materially. 

I am quite glad that Fleur has chosen to adopt him. Maybe... just maybe, now, people like us won't ever have to see him on the opposing side of the battlefield.

I hope that you are well. Please owl me back whenever you have the time.

Always yours,

Roger

* * *

That night, as Roger watched the owl fly away into the cloudy night sky, an argument of a most ferocious nature was taking place in the Astronomy Tower at Hogwarts. Two fourth-year students, a Ravenclaw girl and a Slytherin boy, were going at each other's throats.

Professor Snape, after informing Anthony Weston of his new living arrangements come summertime, had also given the boy strict admonitions telling him that unless he start going to Astronomy class and make at least passable marks, he would not be able to continue studying at Hogwarts. And so, rather reluctantly, Anthony had reported to the Tower that evening, and Professor Sinistra, the heartless, sadistic bint, had declared that the best (only) thing for him to do would be to catch up, he should have a tutor, and she knew just the student to do it.

A moment later, Una Markham, the pert little Mudblood, had walked in. Her smile had vanished when she saw who was waiting there, although, to his great surprise, she did not make any sort of comment at all. In fact, she had gazed at him with… pity. 

He seethed and heartily wished that she had blacked his eye again instead. A MUDBLOOD! PITYING him!

He had stubbornly and systematically tuned out any and all of her explanations of the major stars in the zodiac constellations. He had taunted her, addressed her as Mudblood every time she paused in her pointless instructions, and in short, tried his damnedest to hack her off, so she would either storm off, and he could leave this nightmarish place, or she would lose her temper and punch him or something. And he would welcome the pain, because… pain was good. Better than numbness. 

It had not worked. She had continued to instruct, not knowing or caring whether he listened or not, until he, in a fit of fury at the futility of his efforts, had chucked her telescope straight out the window. 

And then, at last, her eyes had flashed ireful green lightning at him, and she had screeched at him to stop wallowing in his bloody self-pity and act his age. He had retorted that it was none of her business, and that he could act any age he damn well pleased, complete with a look that obviously dared her to hit him. But, she didn't. She strode up to him, and reached up to grab him by both shoulders with surprisingly strong hands.

"Look, I'm not as ignorant as you think! I know what happened with your father and your sister, and I also know that you don't want to talk about it, and that you don't want to do something like this that you consider useless tripe! But that's just too bloody bad! You have to go on! And besides, it's your own fault for not going to anyone to talk about it! Blast it, you boys are so stupid sometimes!! You may alienate me and everyone else by deliberately provoking them, but that's your loss! You're not as alone as you think, but you will be if you keep on being such a bloody git!" she hissed at him, green eyes practically spitting fire, shaking his shoulders slightly.

And then, there was silence. Ice-blue eyes wide with stunned shock stared into snapping jade-green ones, and two gazes fought… then subsided, like quieting waters. Time stretched like a piece of warm rubber, slow and smooth. And then, Anthony jerked back as if hit by an electric shock, and for a moment, just a brief, fleeting second, his face relaxed, the features almost childlike, the eyes unguarded, before he scowled and pointedly turned away from the girl in front of him.

The door suddenly opened, and Professor Sinistra poked her head inside. "Any progress made?" she asked Una in a genial voice, beaming at the girl.

Una looked at the Slytherin boy's rigid back, then at the window where her telescope had been tossed out. And then, she remembered a transitory glimpse of candor and the suggestion of a soul in his eyes. Finally, she spoke, looking straight at the Astronomy professor's questioning gaze. "Yes, I think so."

"Excellent!" Celesta Sinistra beamed at the two students, and moved aside to let them out. "Well, get going then, you two. Go to bed, and since this seems to work quite well, you two can continue here tomorrow night."

The two filed out silently, and walked down the stairs of the tower until they reached the main corridor. Una looked at Anthony for a moment, seeming to be slightly torn, and then, she spoke, "Good night, Anthony."

He watched silently as she headed down the hall, rounded a corner, and disappeared off to the direction of Ravenclaw Tower. And then, before he, too, turned to head for the dungeons, he whispered, "Good night, Una."

And so it was, that Anthony Weston resumed attending Astronomy classes. And, in the evenings, deigned to allow a Muggleborn Ravenclaw help him catch up on what he'd missed. Of course, though he tried his best not to let on, he made visible progress, and by Christmastime, he had caught up to a sizable enough degree that there was no need for more tutoring sessions to take place. On the day of the last session, the Ravenclaw girl had grinned at him, and wished him well. He managed to bite back a sneer, gave her a curt nod, and walked out of the place.

He needed to go to Hogsmeade.

* * *

On Christmas morning, Una awoke to find a pile of presents by her bed. There were the requisite new robe and jewelry from her parents, candy from the Quidditch team, and books from her friends. And… a package that was wrapped in silver paper. Una frowned wonderingly for a moment, then carefully opened the present up.

It was a silver telescope. Replacing the one that the aggravating Anthony Weston had thrown out the window. It was of a finer quality than her old one had been. But… she only used her telescope for tutoring him, and for stargazing on her own time. No one knew that it had been broken…

Then, she smacked herself on the head for being dense. Of course! It was obvious whom… but why? Throwing on a white sweater and a pair of jeans, she ran down to the Great Hall. 

Anthony Weston was sitting alone at the Slytherin table, head bent over his Potions text. His housemates had not come down yet, so Una approached him without trepidation. He ignored her, and she cleared her throat. Finally, he looked up, a bored, somewhat unreadable expression on her face. "What?"

"Thanks for the telescope, and happy Christmas."

He looked startled for a moment, then he sneered at her, "Well, far be it from me to be indebted to a Mud—to you. And aren't you at the wrong table?"

Una rolled her eyes and walked away, back to her own table. She sat down next to Orla, who was entirely oblivious, her face buried in a book entitled Curses and Countercurses: A Guide to the Guild by Auror Val Pelham. Helping herself to a plateful of blueberry pancakes, she smiled slightly to herself, as she felt someone's eyes fixed on her back. 

~ ~ ~

"What in blazing damnation do you think you are doing?!"

The young man up in the air circled the sky lazily once more before spiraling down towards the ground. He leveled out about six feet above the ground, and looked down with a languid smile at the young woman, who was standing there, looking up at him with furious eyes, her fists on her hips, tapping one small foot on the ground. 

"What does it look like? I was flying. It's finally warm again, now that it's springtime, so I'm enjoying the nice weather this afternoon."

"Do you not remember that you are a fugitive? Are you trying to get caught, and have those Death Eaters after us as well?!"

Draco Malfoy shrugged expansively, "I cast a concealment charm upon myself. And, I did not see any of those Muggle metallic flying birds either."

"Still..." Jing-Li glared at him, "What in the world were you doing up there anyway? And where did you get that broom?"

Now, it was Draco's turn to scowl. "The broom is a blasted Cleansweep Five, pathetic compared to my own broom, but even as such, I was reduced to begging your friend Chen Wei to use it. I've been cooped here for months now, and I'm bloody sick of it. Do you never consider that, perhaps, I don't like being caged?"

"It's for your safety, you idiot!" Jing-Li hissed. "Did you forget that you are a fugitive of the Death Eaters, who would kill you on sight... nay, who would have killed you already had it not been for me?" Draco narrowed his eyes and stalked forward a little recklessly, stopping right in front of her so that they were toe to toe.

"Don't even start on that, woman! I'm bored as all hell, and you don't allow me to do anything. I'm a man, and, despite everything that has happened in the past few months, I'm a Malfoy. We Malfoys do not owe debts to anyone, and we also do whatever we want. And, though you might want me to be in your debt forever, rest assured... I will not be. And this means that I will not be sheltered and caged any longer."

Jing-Li reached a hand out.

Five hours later, Draco Malfoy awoke to find himself lying in his tent, strapped down so that he couldn't move. All was quiet around him, and through the open tent flap, he could see the setting sun.

"WHAT THE DEVIL?!"

A small figure toddled into the tent. The boy. The boy that had been at his Initiation. Jack. The boy chuckled childishly when he saw Draco. "Hullo, Uncle Dwaco. Are you playin' thurgery?"

"Where's Jing-Li?" Draco demanded.

"Auntie Jing-Jing is fightin' bad guys," Jack replied matter-of-factly. "She made you fall athleep thith morning after you were being naughty." Jack made a tsk-tsk sound and grinned at Draco, "So, you're playin' thurgery."

Draco opened his mouth to contradict the statement, then shut it all of a sudden, as a calculating gleam entered his eyes. "Sure. You want to be my surgeon?"

Jack nodded eagerly, and Draco smiled. "You can get my wand, it's on the table over there, and pretend that it's your scalpel." Jack did so, and used the wand to make imitative cutting motions over Draco's stomach. A moment later, the boy smiled. "You're all done now, Uncle Dwaco."

Draco took the wand from the child's hand, and muttered the incantation to loosen the straps from his body. "I thank you, Dr. Jack." He quickly transfigured a nearby tea set into a bunch of hand-puppets. "Here, how about you go and make up a puppet show to perform for 'Auntie Jing-Jing'?"

Jack grinned ingenuously at the tall young man, and gave Draco an impulsive hug. "Can we play again tomorrow, Uncle Dwaco?"

"Sure," Draco answered hurriedly, "Now run along."

Jack, puppets in tow, skipped off. Draco grabbed his wand, and performed a locating spell. Well, since he had nothing to do... he might as well. Casting another concealment charm upon himself, he strode out of his tent to the Apparation point at the front of the campsite, and Disapparated.

* * *

Meanwhile, at the Avery residence, Jing-Li was in a spot of trouble. 

She had not been on a raid that night. She had not brought any others with her. No, indeed, she had simply been on a scouting mission, to see if the Death Eaters had any more plans that she might like to know about. Unfortunately for her, there had been a loose brick on the roof.

When she had stepped forward to get closer to the windows and listen, the loose brick had tumbled down, and hit the ground with a resounding bang. A moment later, no less than seven armed wizards had Apparated onto the roof. Walden Macnair had thrown his executioner's axe at her head, and while she was momentarily distracted, ducking the weapon, Erasmus Parkinson had managed to disarm and stun her.

Now, she was chained to the wall of the Avery dungeons, and Demetrius Avery was leering at her. Next to Avery was a large tank, and inside, there swam a school of medium-sized fish with red bellies. Avery addressed her in an arrogant voice, "So... you are to tell me, my pretty little Magelet, where your camp is located."

Jing-Li pointedly ignored him. Avery continued, twirling a goblet of red wine in his hands. "Are you familiar with animals, my dear?"

Jing-Li still remained silent, and Avery pushed on, "These fish... they look very harmless, don't they? Well... unfortunately for you, they're not. Piranhas, flesh-eating fish... they can decimate you to a skeleton in minutes." He drained his cup, then smashed the glass against the wall, so that he was holding a jagged shard in his hand. "I could cut you... and throw you in. They will smell your blood, and they will devour you. You will struggle in pain, and they will simply become more ferocious. Unless... of course, you... behave."

Jing-Li took a long look at the school of piranhas in the tank, then turned back to Avery, who was watching her expectantly. Deliberately, she spat right in his face.

With a cry of rage, Avery lunged forward, intent on gashing her cheek with his glass fragment. And then, there was a booming, authoritative voice at the door of the dungeons. "HOLD!"

Avery turned around in surprise, as did Jing-Li, as Lucius Malfoy crossed the dungeon floor in several long strides.

Lucius Malfoy gave Jing-Li a penetrating, unreadable look, "So, this is the insolent little Mage leader who sported off with my son."

Avery nodded, "Yes, it is, Mr. Malfoy. I was just about to feed her to the fishes."

Lucius Malfoy raised a blond eyebrow, "Oh really? Then I was just on time."

"What?"

"Don't feed her in yet, Avery, you fool. Let me deal with her. She does, after all, have my son." Lucius answered in a suitably arrogant, authoritative drawl. Avery nodded, and Lucius made a dismissive gesture, "I'll take her to my home, and... we shall see just how... prideful... this little girl is."

"Very well," Avery acquiesced, and gave Jing-Li one last sadistic grin before walking out, shutting the door behind him. As his footsteps died down, Lucius suddenly turned to Jing-Li with a worried expression, and pointed his wand at the chains. The manacles snapped open, and Jing-Li found herself free. Before she could say anything, Lucius had handed her wand back to her.

"All right, let's get out of here." He grabbed her hand, and Disapparated them both away.

They arrived at the Mage camp a moment later, and Jing-Li jerked herself away from him, immediately crouching down into a defensive stance and pointing her wand at him. "What is going on?"

But Lucius was changing... his face and form shifting, albeit slightly. The harsher lines were softening slightly, the gray eyes lightening from slate to stormy gray-blue. The long hair was shortening, going from a silvery queue to a slightly windswept, shorter cut, with silky blond strands at the crown of his head. The slender hands, slightly roughened from Quidditch, pulled a vial from his pocket.

"Polyjuice potion," Draco Malfoy said nonchalantly, "I had one vial of Polyjuice potion containing one of my father's hairs. Never thought that I would use it, but..." and then, he grinned down at her, "We're even now, Xiao ye mao."

"And they let you pass... and how did you...?!" Jing-Li looked at the young man with an incredulous expression on her face, trying to compute exactly what had happened.

"I conned Jack into setting me free. Most unsporting of you to tie me down. I was bored, so I followed. And good thing, too. As for them letting me pass... well, Macnair and Avery and them might be ruthless, but that doesn't mean that they can't be gullible now and then. Besides, I'm a Malfoy." And now, once again, he advanced on her, a sly smile on his handsome, arrogant face, one hand coming forward to cover hers that held her wand, and lowering the slender wooden rod into a non-threatening position, the other coming up to caress her cheek softly. "How do you feel now?"

Jing-Li felt her breath catch in her throat for a moment, and that moment was long enough for her to come to her senses. Cursing herself for her lack of discipline, she pulled away, a mutinous expression on her face. 

"I've never felt so humiliated in my life," she whispered before whirling around and walking away, her unbound hair swirling around her. Draco watched as she disappeared into her tent and smiled wryly.

"Malfoys do tend to have that effect on most people, but you're just being ridiculous right now."

* * *

Owl from C. Chang to R. Davies, 5 June

Roger,

I'm twenty years old today. No longer a girl, but I think that in this world, we both left childhood earlier than most. 

I have just received an owl from Fleur the other day. Anthony Weston seems to be doing better. He had many things on his mind, but it seems as though they're gradually getting sorted out. She thinks that he has changed, and most likely for the better. Apparently, Una Markham (you remember me mentioning her, of course, as a Chaser for Ravenclaw and Muggleborn witch) had to tutor him in Astronomy, and somehow, through their interactions, his prejudices have lessened to a degree. It might even be the beginning of a friendship. 

Good for him. Now, growing up in a more positive home environment, and associating with people who will be better examples for him, he should be all right.

So... I believe that, hard though it might be to find, there is some good in the world after all. And that shall be my motto this year, to keep me going when things get hard. 

Roger, I hope that you are all right. Please, be careful. The world that we grew up in is now torn in war, and you are right in the thick of it. Please... for my sake, if not anyone else's, be careful, and try to keep hope. I don't ever want to have to say, "Yes, Roger Davies... I used to know him."

I wish you all the best for your next mission, and will keep you in my prayers.

Always yours,

Cho

~ ~ ~ * * * ~ ~ ~

Okay! Now, that was fun, no? Review!! 


	16. Love and Family

**NOTES:**

            In this chapter, we have much fun. Part-veela women are always lots of fun. Yes. And of course, more Draco and Jing-Li happiness ensues. And the _real_ Lucius Malfoy makes an appearance. Enjoy!

**DEDICATION:**

            To Skyler Sage, for ranting with me, talking to me, and being a great source of feedback! You rock!

**DISCLAIMER:**

            Jing-Li is mine. She will go after you and kill you painfully if you sue me. Bwahahahaha!

~          ~          ~          *          *          *          ~          ~          ~

'Til The End

~          ~          ~          *          *          *          ~          ~          ~

            For the first time ever in his fifteen years, Anthony Weston did not go home via the Hogwarts Express to Weston Mansion. Rather, as everyone else left for the station, he waited alongside a slim, seraphic young girl with a cascade of pale blonde ringlets for Professor Weasley to finish up with her duties. The girl had grinned at him fetchingly, and introduced herself as Gabrielle, his "new seester... sort of". He had shrugged, and merely remained silent. Gabrielle didn't seem to mind much, and grinned to herself as she waited for her sister to "feeneesh jabbering wis ze ozer teachairs so we can go 'ome and play wis Beel and leetle Juliette... I wonder eef ze leetle darling can speak any French yet? Probably not... Beel is 'orrible at ze language..."

            In all honesty, Anthony hadn't the slightest clue what she was talking about. Nevertheless, he nodded vaguely as she chattered on, and soon, his Defense Against the Dark Arts professor arrived, wand out, levitating quite a huge bundle in front of her consisting of his, Gabrielle's, and her own trunk, all tied together with rope. Anthony's jaw dropped, but Gabrielle merely walked forward after her sister and looked over her shoulder, "Well, aren't you coming, you seely boy?"

            Still rather bewildered, Anthony silently followed the two beautiful blondes and the gargantuan floating luggage out of the castle, where a horseless carriage was waiting to take them to Hogsmeade.

            The trip home was rather silent on his part. He had no idea what to expect: All he knew was that Professor Weasley's husband was the eldest brother of the Gryffindor Keeper Ginny Weasley and that he had been a curse-breaker for Gringott's in Egypt up until the year that Anthony had come to Hogwarts. And then, he had moved back to England to help fight for the Light Side, and that the summer after his first year, he had married the part-veela professor. A year later, the professor had been pregnant, and over Christmas break, she had given birth to a healthy baby girl. 

            With his luck, he'd probably be stuck babysitting a spoiled little brat and changing nappies, he thought morosely. And Professor Weasley's husband would be a stodgy old arse. 

            "Ansony," A soft voice broke through his pessimistic thoughts, and he looked up to see Professor Weasley addressing him calmly, "when we are not in class, you may call me Fleur." At that moment, the carriage came to a halt, and Professor... no, _Fleur_, beamed at him and Gabrielle. "We're 'ome. Ansony, welcome to my 'ome; it will be yours from now on as well."

            Anthony nodded curtly, and stepped out of the carriage. And blinked.

            Well, this was certainly vastly different from Weston Mansion. The house was much smaller than his old home, but quaintly built out of gray, almost-white stone. There was a shingled roof in slate gray and a bay window in the front, and around the house, there was a wrought-iron fence of white curlicues nearly entirely covered with pale purple wisteria blooms. There was a lawn surrounding the house, as green and velvety-looking as a Slytherin banner, and he smiled somewhat. A flagstone footpath led up to the entrance of the house, flanked with blue delphiniums and white lilies in tall spires, and standing at the door, a strawberry-blonde child balanced on his hip and an easygoing smile on his face, was... the coolest-looking fellow that Anthony had ever seen, hands down. 

            Sure, the bloke wasn't wearing the finest and most expensive in robes. In fact, he wasn't wearing robes at all. He was wearing a casual blue Muggle shirt, the cuffs unbuttoned and the sleeves rolled up slightly to reveal lightly freckled, leanly muscular forearms. Underneath, he wore a tight black Muggle T-shirt, and Muggle jeans on his legs. The only thing, indeed, that could have distinguished him from a Muggle were his boots, which were obviously made of dragonhide, and an earring made from a sphinx fang dangling from his ear. He had long, ginger hair, tied in a ponytail, and looked all of maybe twenty-seven years of age. 

            Okay, so the fellow wasn't a stodgy old arse. 

            The young man stepped forward and proffered a hand, "I'm Bill Weasley. Anthony, right?"

            Anthony nodded, and cautiously shook the man's hand. Good Lord, he had just shaken hands with someone who might well have aided those who had brought his father "to justice". He watched as Bill turned to Fleur, and kissed her soundly as he handed her the baby, and then helped Gabrielle out of the carriage before levitating the trunks easily into the house. 

            Well, he didn't drop down dead from the contact. Maybe he wasn't doomed... yet.

*          *          *

            A month later, Anthony Weston was still getting accustomed to life around the Delacour-Weasley household. 

            His first night there had been chaotic. Bill seemed to have many, many siblings, all of which, as well as his parents, had dropped by to see him settled in. Bill's mother was a fussy, affectionate redheaded woman who had brought over a large apple pie and a basketful of other delectables. Bill's father was rather odd, with a fascination for all things Muggle that Anthony found slightly distasteful until the man had presented him with a particularly seductive Muggle toy called a "Game Boy". Surprisingly, it had been the former Head Girl, Hermione Granger, who had tagged along with the Weasley assemblage, who had shown him the delights of the little machine, and within an hour, Anthony had been hopelessly hooked. He might well have played with it the rest of the night had Bill's younger twin brothers not mischievously caused a diversion by slipping some orange powder into the drink of another brother, a serious, bespectacled fellow, who had then promptly turned into an orangutan in a blue curly wig for a few seconds. All in all, it had been like a circus in the little house, and everything had been so wacky that he forgot to think of anything else before he'd fallen asleep from pure exhaustion on the couch.

            He'd woken up in his new room the next morning. No dark, drearily elegant velvet draperies. The casement had sheer curtains and the room was white. His things had been moved to the closet, and he found that he had to tidy his own room. There were no house-elves, and although it took Fleur's instructions the first several times, he learnt, for the first time in his life, to make his own bed and fold his clothing.

            And then, he had to do chores.

            There was no nappy changing, for which he was thankful, but he had to wash the dishes twice a week, putting his arms elbow-deep in soapy water. He also had to water the plants in the garden in the evenings, and help watch the little one when Bill was out at work and Fleur was at the market. He had been defiant at first: such behavior did not befit someone of his rank. But the protests had been to no avail. Fleur was not cruel or harsh by any means, but if she decreed that something was to be done, it would be done, and that was that. It gave him some solace that Gabrielle, for all her angelic blonde daintiness, had to do the same chores as he did. He supposed that this was just the way life was, nowadays.

            Gabrielle was something else, entirely. She was quite talkative, and often tried to engage him in conversation. At times, he found her chatter rather tiresome, but at other times, she managed to keep him in stitches. She spent most of her spare time coming up with rather reckless but entertaining schemes and tricks to play on people. A lot of the time, she would go and visit Fred and George, the mischievous, prank-producing twins and co-owners of the wildly popular Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. The other part of the time, she would go down the street to the house of the former notorious Azkaban inmate, Sirius Black, to visit the former fugitive as well as the equally renowned Harry Potter. In both instances, she would come home chock-full of new ideas of tricks to play on people, and Anthony rapidly learned never to get on her bad side, after a rather humiliating incident involving butterbeer imbibed with something that turned his hair fluorescent pink for three days.

            And that August, when he went to Diagon Alley to buy his school supplies, Anthony Weston had grown three inches, and developed a healthy tan. And to match the shiny new Prefect's badge on his robes, he wore, for once, a genuine smile.

*          *          *

Draco Malfoy was getting quite bloody frustrated. 

            It had been four months since that whole mess at the Avery residence, and that madwoman was still avoiding him.

            Jing-Li was a puzzle. He remembered meeting her as Cho Chang's "cousin" at Diagon Alley before his last year. He had been quite curious: the first impression that he had gotten of her was that she felt neither hatred nor love towards him, but a cautious interest. And what was more... she was not at all afraid of him, or disconcerted by him in any way. That had been two years ago.

            And then, he'd put her out of his mind, until the fateful day that she had swooped down from goodness-knows-where to get him out of his doomed Initiation. When she'd brought him to the Mage camp, he had no idea who she was, for she did not remove the kerchief covering her nose and mouth. She'd been brusque, and he'd been both annoyed and intrigued.

            And surprised as hell the next morning when he saw her unmasked.

            She had taken him under her wing, in her own blunt, brook-no-arguments way. She had given him a tent, and any creature comforts that he might require. At first, it had been rather hard to get used to. A lot of the other Mages did not speak any English, and even her English was accented, and hard for him to understand at first. Moreover, his living conditions had been vastly different from the luxurious grandeur that he had been accustomed to all his life. He remembered his horrified shock when his robes had worn out and she had simply given him an extra Mage uniform. He had been aghast, and had transfigured the thing into a robe at once. However, when he had realized that there would be no one to clean anything for him, and that silk robes with a long cloak were far more easy to sully and difficult to clean than the more sensible Mage uniform, he'd stopped, and now, to his great surprise, he found that he actually preferred the uniform and the ease of movement that it gave. 

            The Mage Leader, Jing-Li... she was something else. A feisty little demon with a sharp tongue and a quick wand arm. Lean and wiry and flexible as if her entire body had been constructed from willow branches. Fierce, and fiercely loyal. Quick-tempered, and quite used to getting her way and being obeyed. In the latter sense, in an odd way, she was almost like him, a Malfoy. There would be clashes of wills, for the two of them were both indomitable. 

            On the one hand, she was almost severe in her discipline and the glacial calmness and relentlessness with which she went after Death Eaters, trained the other Mages, and brought little Jack up to be strong, self-respecting, smart, and obedient. And on the other hand... when she was angry and lost her temper, almost always around him, he'd see something that was almost akin to passion. 

            Her anger around others usually amounted to an icy-calm but deadly fury. But around him... there would be screamed profanities, crimsoned cheeks... and in an odd way, this made him feel almost triumphant. No one else ever managed to get that sort of rise out of her. And lately, he had taken to wondering what she would look like if she were enflamed with another type of passion. 

            _I must be desperate, or daft. Or both,_ he thought ruefully. For only a truly crazy individual would dare to think of the defiant, daunting Zhao Jing-Li in such a manner. 

            She was as prideful as he was, although in an entirely different way. For her to have her life saved by him was anathema. And since that incident, she avoided him studiously. She didn't even get angry with him any more. And for some odd reason, this irritated him to no end.

*          *          *

            There was a Mage council that night. Common enough occurrences, and usually conducted in unintelligible Chinese. He was never invited, nor did he usually want to be. He was not a Mage, and he knew full well that he was a fugitive, despite Jing-Li's beliefs to the contrary.

            However, this time, he was summoned. Everyone sat in Jing-Li's tent, around a rosewood table. She sat at the head, and he at the foot. Her expression was unreadable as she faced him, before she cleared her throat and began the meeting.

            "Today we have news that the Death Eaters have managed to procure the release of the Lestranges, Mulciber, Rookwood, Travers and other captured Death Eaters from Azkaban a fortnight ago. The Dark Lord shall be building a new force, to make up for the ones that we have taken down. The Ministry has ordained it appropriate and necessary to raid Malfoy Manor. Based on information given by a special scout, there are no planned activities taking place there tonight. It should not be overly difficult to capture Lucius Malfoy, but I call this council because someone in our midst will be directly affected by this plan."

            And then, she, and everyone else, turned dark eyes towards Draco. Finally, Jing-Li asked, in a crisp, succinct manner, "What do you say?"

            Draco paused, and for a few minutes, the air in the tent was charged with a tense silence. He remembered the toys, the material wealth that he had… everything that his father had bequeathed upon him during his life…

            And then, he looked directly into Jing-Li's eyes, and saw once again those same eyes, fiery, intrepid… glowing like dark jewels over a black kerchief as she plucked him from death… death by his father's hand.

            "I'll go with you."

            "What?!" Jing-Li leapt up from her seat and stared at him, wide-eyed, "You've never been trained! You could be _KILLED!_ He would kill you in an instant, you know that!"

            Draco didn't lower his gaze, "And so could you. But at least I've lived there for nearly all my life. I know the secret passages and the traps. Come on, let me go with you. We can watch out for each other."

            She looked torn, and Draco Malfoy spoke one word that, a year ago, he would never have imagined himself saying to anyone, "Please."

            Finally, as all the others looked on, she nodded. And so, their fate would be sealed.

*          *          *

            "So, to infiltrate after you deactivate the Anti-Apparition spells. The thirteenth gargoyle from the left has a sickle-shaped knob on its head. Press it, and there will be a trapdoor leading to the attic library. Go right, and you will see a bookshelf full of books on Potions, next to a crystal and obsidian chess set. Take the obsidian king and insert it into the hole in the side of the shelf, and the shelf will turn to reveal a hidden room with a door. Still using the obsidian king, insert it into the keyhole in the door, and it will show a staircase that leads straight to my bedchamber. Use the fireplace to floo to my father's office. _Take care._" 

            As soon as Draco had finished giving his instructions, Jing-Li turned, and frowned slightly, "And you? What will you do?"

            Draco gave a little smirk, and held out his left hand. On the middle finger, there was a large, ornate silver ring in the shape of a serpent. "I'm a Malfoy, and this is my house. I go through the front door."

            Jing-Li gaped, "And will your servants not bring you to your father in chains?!"

            Draco smirked, "The servants are house-elves. They're not going to do anything."

            Jing-Li nodded dubiously, "Just be careful," were her last words before she nimbly shimmied up a tree, and with the aid of a slender rope, raised herself onto the roof of the building. She watched with knitted brows as Draco, shoulders back, head held high, walked up to the front door, inserted his ring into the keyhole, and strode inside. She raised her wand to deactivate the wards, and muttered a quiet prayer under her breath.

            Indeed, Draco did not meet any resistance in the form of servants of the Malfoy estate. The one house-elf that he met along the way, he gave a quelling look, and the little creature scurried off for the kitchens without a word. He avoided the traps that had been set around the place, and made straight for his father's office.

            Lucius Malfoy was in the middle of writing some sort of correspondence when the door to his office opened. "Set the brandy on the desk, Zippy. I've got work to do."

            "Hello, Lucius," a cold, familiar voice drawled, and Lucius spun around to see a face that he had not expected ever to see again in this house.

            "Draco," Lucius sneered, "So, my errant son has come home. Unfortunately… if you were expecting any type of warm welcome…" he gazed at Draco's Mandarin tunic and Muggle trousers, and his lip curled in derision. "My son's taste has certainly gone down. I suppose that you're all taken up with the little Mage whore, as well."

            Draco's face was stony as he drew his wand, "You're one to talk of little whores… I _know_ what you did to that Muggle girl during _your_ initiation… and you were engaged to Mother at the time..."

            Lucius' face turned an ugly shade of puce, and his wand was out in an instant, "I will not bear your impertinence, boy! _Conburo__ Dermae!"_

            But Draco dodged the hex, and it hit a pillar by the fireplace, leaving a flaming gouge. _"Collacero!"_

            The hex, aimed at Lucius' head, hit his left arm, and immediately the skin tore jaggedly, and the older man hissed in pain. However, a moment later, he had recovered somewhat, and he managed to sneer, "I taught you all the hexes you know, boy… and I know a few that you don't. You will not win… and you will not live. _Tundo__ Contusum!"_

            The hex hit Draco in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him for a moment. Lucius took that moment to smash a book at his head with a banishing charm. Draco rolled out of the way, and wincing slightly, got back to his feet. No… Lucius would _not_ win. Never! 

            The formerly tidy study was soon becoming a mess of smoke and sparks from hexes flying back and forth. The two men were about evenly matched, but Lucius was tiring rapidly. And finally, Draco called out "_Expelliarmus__!_" and Lucius' wand went flying into his hand.

            The man himself was on the ground, his face bloody from a cut on his lip. Draco stared down at him, both wands pointed at Lucius' head, and his father sneered. "You can say it. Just two words… I taught you them myself."

            _Avada__ Kedavra._ And Lucius would be gone. Draco knew how to cast the Killing Curse. And… he also knew that had he been the one on the ground, he would have been dead already. But… he was better than Lucius. "No, I won't. I'm better than you."

            Still holding his father's wand firmly in his hand, he stepped away and turned half around to survey the trashed room. He was gazing at a photograph of his mother... taken more than twenty years ago, when Narcissa Richardson had been fresh out of Hogwarts, a fey young girl with her hair down in golden waves on her back and a sad almost-smile on her face... and then, suddenly, there was a roar of a flaring fire, and a feminine shriek of "CAREFUL! _STUPEFY!_" followed by a metallic clang as a dagger zipped past his head to imbed its point about three inches away from his left ear in the wall. Draco spun around to see Jing-Li still half in the fire, her wand drawn, and Lucius frozen on the ground, his hand still upraised.

            A moment later, Jing-Li stumbled into the room, her face pale and contorted with more fury than he had ever seen from her. "_YOU BLOODY IDIOT! You... you tian xia di yi de ben dan!_" She regressed to Chinese at places as she lost her temper entirely and screamed at him, lunging forward to shake his shoulders with every word. "_How can you be so STUPID?!__ To trust HIM! Not even stunning him first! Feng zi!"_

            In the middle of her tirade, the door of the study burst open and several Aurors, including Draco's old nemesis Harry Potter, walked into the room. Jing-Li let go of him, and Draco rolled his eyes slightly. "It's about time, Potter... what took you so long?"

            Harry gave a little snort, "Well, it might interest you what we found locked up in a secret chamber in the upper floor."

            "Not particularly; I've probably seen all the torture devices in here already," Draco snapped, "Take him and get the hell out."

            "No, you really might be interested, Malfoy. We found your mother. She seems to have been locked in her chamber for two months. According to the house-elves, she had upset your father somehow, so... but they have been able to bring her food twice a day." And then, Harry Potter stepped aside, and another Auror whom Draco recognized as Justin Finch-Fletchley half-led, half-carried a slim, pale, still-beautiful Narcissa Malfoy forward. Draco looked down at his mother, who was weeping silently, one pearl-white hand clenched around a lock of knee-length tangled blonde hair. She slowly looked around the wrecked room, from the Aurors, to the young Chinese woman in a Mage uniform, to Lucius, stunned and bloody, lying on the ground, and finally, her gaze fixed upon Draco, and she cried harder, even as she gave him an odd, almost-dreary smile.

            Draco sighed somewhat, and then, turned his eyes back to Harry Potter's. "Take her to St. Mungo's."

            Potter nodded, and he and Finch-Fletchley levitated the blonde woman onto a stretcher. As the rest of the Aurors scattered about the bleak old mansion, Draco gave Jing-Li a brief look, and, taking advantage of the still-disabled wards, Disapparated from Malfoy Manor for the Mage camp.

*          *          *

            Only a minute later, both he and Jing-Li had arrived back at the Mage camp, and she was once again railing at him.

            _"You were going to be KILLED! How COULD you?! That... that BASTARD was going to throw that knife into your neck! Bloody hell, Draco Malfoy, do you even KNOW what nearly happened?!"_ Jing-Li's voice was bordering on hysterical now, her hands thrown into the air, her hair entirely undone and almost quivering with anger. Her eyes, blazing into his, were frantic.

            She was not simply angry at his stupidity, he realized. She was also breathless, her chest heaving from the stress that tonight had brought. And she was beautiful. And she was fearless, with a soul of fire to melt his heart of ice. Without knowing quite what he was doing, or considering that he had now obviously gone completely daft, he strode forward, closing the distance between the two of them, placing his hands around her waist and cutting her off by pressing his lips against hers.

            She stiffened, and squirmed, but Draco Malfoy groaned slightly against her lips and held on for dear life. He was crazy, absolutely insane... she was raising her hand upward, towards his head. Dimly, he remembered how she had broken Goyle's jugular, and wondered if he, too, was going to die drowning... but all thoughts, gruesome or otherwise, were dashed from his mind when her hand cupped his cheek surprisingly gently, and her lips opened underneath his. Their kiss deepened as he pulled her even closer, and her hands lifted to tangle in his hair.

            And then, belatedly, both of them became aware of a gleeful little voice piping in the background, "Dwaco and Jing-Jing thitting in a twee! KAY EYE ETH ETH EYE EN GEE!"

            Draco pulled away reluctantly from the intoxicating, searing kiss and gave Jack a glare that sent the boy scampering, giggling as he ran. Then, he took a deep breath and turned back to Jing-Li, who was still resting comfortably in his arms. "When we have children, they'll have to learn not to intrude when mummy and daddy are snogging," he muttered.

            Jing-Li's face turned crimson, but she managed to snap back at him, "And what makes you think that I want to have your children?"

            Draco smiled cockily as he pulled her back into his arms, "Because I insist, and I always get what I want." She glared at him, and his smile widened as he ran one hand through her dark hair, "Also... because I want all of my daughters to grow up as strong, feisty and fearless as you. And... last but not least..." he bent his head down, pressing his forehead against hers, "I love you," he whispered against her lips before kissing her again.

*          *          *

Wheee! And FINALLY, Thalia inserts snogging into the fic! Now, there is romance! You should be happy! You ARE happy, right? RIGHT?!


	17. Blonde

**NOTES:**

In which there is Narcissa Malfoy, Draco and Jing-Li, and, believe it or not, Cho... AND, a new year at Hogwarts! Much fun stuff ensues, and I will try to pick up the pace... because, well, this fic is already stretching to ridiculous lengths~_^...

**DEDICATION:**

This chapter is dedicated to Morrigun, my awesome fellow SOBette, for helping create the greatest and most amusing piece of photo-manipulation known to the Potterverse! _ALL HAIL THE SOBs AND THEIR SOBettes!_

**DISCLAIMER:**

All ye who believe that I should own the Potterverse, email me and I will tell you where to send your cash donations...

~ ~ ~ * * * ~ ~ ~

'Til The End

~ ~ ~ * * * ~ ~ ~

"Your father has committed suicide."

Draco Malfoy's eyebrows shot up to his hairline, and he stared at his former archenemy. "What?! How?!"

Harry Potter sighed. "Well, we were about to interrogate him. Turns out that he kept a hollow pin filled with distilled coral snake venom..."

Draco scowled, then sighed. "Fine. So the old bugger is dead. You did bring my mother to St. Mungo's, right?"

Potter nodded, "Yes, she is fine... just, rather shaken. They're going to release her in a day... they can't keep her there if there's nothing physically wrong with her; not enough room nowadays... but she might need someone to take care of her."

Draco nodded, and glanced at Jing-Li, who was standing behind him. 

The Chinese woman looked at Harry Potter straight in the eye, and said, "We will take her in. I do not know how much attention I will be able to give her, but I will try my best, and my Mages and I will provide her protection and a place to stay."

Harry nodded slowly. "Well, I guess that will do. I... wish you the best."

Draco smirked, "Wishes accepted. Now, if you will excuse me..." he grinned wolfishly at Jing-Li, "I need to introduce to my mother her daughter-in-law to be."

And with a pop, the two had Disapparated from the Mage camp, leaving Harry Potter standing there, rather bemused. "Er, congratulations, I guess..."

* * *

Narcissa Malfoy was placidly sitting up in bed as a nurse brushed her long blonde hair, when Draco and Jing-Li entered the room. Her pale cheeks showed signs of many tears shed, although at the moment, she was quite calm, smiling, even. Draco frowned slightly. His mother had always been rather distant... quiet... he had certainly never seen his parents exchange any affection beyond the linked arms at several social events. But... perhaps Narcissa had loved Lucius. It bothered him somewhat that he had no idea. 

"Mother?" he ventured quietly. Narcissa slowly turned to face him, and gave him the same strange, dreary smile that she had given him the night of Lucius' capture. She made a sound half-laugh, half-sob, and gripped his hands with hers. She did not say a word.

Draco gave a questioning look at the nurse. "She's not mad. We did tests. She has all of her mental facilities, but... we think that the recent events of her life have taken a toll, and she needs time to adjust."

"Anything specific?" The question came from Jing-Li. The nurse pursed her lips.

"Well... she had been put under a silence curse. She has not been able to speak more than ten words a day for the past two years. It's been removed... but she probably has so much bottled inside that she has not been able to say... well, just give her time. And care. Lots of care."

Draco nodded slowly. "So, she will be released tomorrow morning."

The nurse nodded. "We would keep her longer, Mr. Malfoy. Really, we would… except, well… there are new people coming in here every day…"

"Understood." Draco nodded curtly, then stood up. He bent down, obviously not used to the gesture, and gave his mother a brief kiss on the forehead. His mother gave him that peculiar smile again, and then turned away. And Draco and Jing-Li slowly walked out of the room and exited St. Mungo's.

* * *

The next day, when Draco and Jing-Li arrived at St. Mungo's, they were arguing amongst themselves.

"Well, I don't know what we could do besides take turns watching her!" Jing-Li said softly. There was no yelling now. Not here, at any rate. Draco furrowed his brows. 

"You have your duties… and… oof!" Draco collided with someone.

"Sorry about that," a soft, melodious feminine voice exclaimed, then gasped, "Draco Malfoy? _Jing-Li?_"

"Cho?" Jing-Li uttered in surprise. The other Chinese woman was clad in pure white, and a band of white fabric was wrapped around her head. Jing-Li's eyes widened, "Who…?"

"Huh? Who what?" Draco was confused. Jing-Li shot him a dirty look.

"When a Chinese person wears white, it means that somebody has died," she said slowly, as if explaining to a dimwitted child. Cho gave a wry grin.

"It's okay… it's not anyone _particularly_ close to me, but…" she paused, and sighed softly, "You remember Amos Diggory?"

Draco nodded, and gave a small snort. He never liked the man much… "So? Bombastic bugger dropped off, eh?"

Jing-Li swatted him, and Cho gave him a half-exasperated, half-bemused look. "Mr. Diggory died a week ago. His wife is here… she got hit with a curse… but she will likely recover in a year. Except, she has lost her memory. I am just here to visit her."

Jing-Li nodded, "How is your family?"

Cho bit her lip slightly, "They've all moved to China at the beginning of the summer. It's safer there."

Draco raised an eyebrow, "And you're here still because…?"

Cho gave a small sigh, "Because… I have roots here. More than they do. I _need_ to stay… of course, I will have to buy another flat or something…" she trailed off, and then looked back at the other two, "What are _you_ two doing here?"

"My mother's getting released today," Draco said succinctly, and walked forward towards Narcissa Malfoy's room, unmindful of the two Chinese women talking amongst themselves in their native language behind him.

Narcissa Malfoy was dressed in simple black robes, and sitting in a chair, staring into space, when the three arrived in her room. As Cho and Jing-Li stood and watched by the door, Draco slowly walked up to his mother and greeted her. "Mother?"

Narcissa turned her head at the sound, and Draco walked forward. "Do you know who I am?" he asked rather dubiously.

Slowly, a hazy smile spread across Narcissa's face, and she nodded. "Dra-co..." she said, her voice nothing but a hoarse whisper from lack of use. She pointed at him. "Dra-co."

"Yes, I am Draco," Draco agreed, and she smiled at him.

"Son."

"Yes, I'm your son." 

Well, at least she recognized him. And then, Narcissa gave a watery chuckle, raising one hand to tangle into her golden hair. "Son.... free... _FREE_......" she gave a whoop, and then pointed one slender index finger at her own breast. "Free..."

Draco sighed slightly, unaware that Jing-Li and Cho were still in deep discussion amongst themselves at the door. "Yes, you're free. Let's go now." Narcissa didn't budge, and stared past Draco at the two dark-haired witches at the door. 

"Blue. Daughter." Narcissa gave Draco what could only be described as a mischievous grin, and pointed her finger now at Jing-Li, clad in her blue Mage uniform. "Daughter. Dra-co love."

Draco scratched his head somewhat uncomfortably. It was obvious that Narcissa Malfoy had not lost her mind entirely. She recognized him. She even knew what was going on. However... it seemed as though at this time, she was still somewhat in shock. She carried the look of someone who had a mind full of things to say, and no means to say them.

And behind him, Cho cleared her throat. "Malfoy... I've a proposition for you."

"What is it?" Draco asked abruptly, eyes still fixed upon his mother.

"Well... if you would like, I can stay at Jing-Li's camp. I've nowhere to stay unless I buy another flat anyway, and this way, well... I can help keep an eye out for your mother. I am still working, but staying in a Mage camp, well... that would only make things more convenient for all parties. What do you say?"

Draco exchanged a brief glance with Jing-Li, who nodded. "Well, Chang... if you want to, go ahead. It's her camp anyway."

Cho smiled, "I know. But it's _your_ mother. Will she be all right? I know what had happened... how is she doing?"

"She's doing fine. But how did you know what had happened?"

Cho's smile widened, "A little black cat somewhere told me." She would not say any more. But, half an hour later, two newcomers arrived at the Mage camp to stay.

* * *

A week later, as Cho was trying to teach Draco traditional Chinese vows and Narcissa Malfoy, finally getting accustomed to her voice again, hummed as she watched little Jack imitate Jing-Li's sparring with a tree branch, the Hogwarts Express left King's Cross station as yet another school year began. 

In the front of the train were the Prefects' compartments, as always. In one of them, there sat a Slytherin Prefect with dark hair, a few strands falling carelessly in his eyes. He had an expression of immense concentration on his face, and he was completely focused on the little machine he held in his hands. 

The door to the compartment flung open, and another fifth year Prefect walked in, quickly shutting the door behind her. She was rather small, and her sugar-brown hair was secured in a somewhat messy knot at the nape of her neck with a yellow Muggle pencil. She wore a khaki dress, sandals, and a somewhat exasperated expression on her face. Anthony didn't bother to look up. Not now... he was sooo close! Mario and Luigi were head to head... and... there! He won! And then, the other Prefect gave a gasp of recognition as he looked up.

"_Anthony Weston?!_"

He looked up blankly. The girl... petite, wiry, with an inquisitive expression, features not quite regular enough to be conventionally pretty, but striking nonetheless. She was not in her robes, so he could not immediately place her in a house. But... she had eyes, slanted, sharp green eyes like a cat's. Una Markham, then. She was looking at him with astonishment.

He gave her a curt nod, but her eyes were focused on his Game Boy, and they had lit up. "You play Game Boy?"

He nodded, "Super Mario Deluxe."

"That's great! I love that game... Mario is amazing," she gushed happily, and he raised an eyebrow.

"Mario? What are you talking about, Markham? It's all about Luigi!"

"Luigi is nothing compared to Mario! His moves aren't nearly as cool!"

And so, Anthony Weston and Una Markham, at the beginning of the school year, found themselves in yet another argument. 

"But Luigi is an _idiot_ at the Mini-games! How can you say that he's better?"

"You just don't know how to play as him!"

"MARIO!"

"LUIGI!"

"_MARIO!_"

"_LUIGI!_"

**_"MARIO!"_**

And at that moment, the door opened once more, and a beautiful young girl with cherubic features and a crown of golden curls walked in with a butter-melting smile. Anthony looked at her, and relaxed, his face taking on a calm expression. Una watched in wonder as the girl... Gabrielle, the part-veela sister of Professor Weasley... sauntered up to Anthony and smacked him playfully on the chest. "Seely boy," the blonde girl purred, "So crazy about zat leetle toy. I bought you some chocolate frogs." And Gabrielle handed Anthony sweets with a graceful white hand, as Una stared. 

"Thanks, Gaby," Anthony replied, opening up a frog and biting off the head. He glanced at the card, "Nezha. D'you want it?" He held out the card to Gabrielle, and she thanked him graciously, putting it away in her purse.

"So, Una, whatevair are you doing 'ere wis zis prat?" Gabrielle asked conversationally. Una frowned slightly. Why was Gabrielle calling him a prat, when she obviously liked him very much (_honestly,_ there was no accounting for taste)?

But she answered the question calmly enough, "Well, I was in the other Prefect compartment, but then Orla came in." The fifth year Ravenclaw girl rolled her eyes, "She got her O.W.L. results back over the summer, and she received a perfect score in Defense Against the Dark Arts. She's being insufferably pompous about it right now."

Gabrielle laughed slightly, "She is like Percy… wis a crush." Anthony sniggered lightly, and Una looked confused. The blonde girl gave an airy shrug. "Percy is ze brozer of Beel. 'E used to be Prefect and 'Ead Boy." She glanced at her delicate gold watch, "I sink zat we 'ad better change into robes," she murmured, "Ansony, get out of 'ere for a few minutes, please."

Anthony laughed, "It's all right. No need to be modest." Gabrielle glared, and smacked him again.

"Get out or else…"

Anthony got out, and Una and Gabrielle quickly changed into their robes and uniforms. Gabrielle gave the older girl a somewhat calculating look that made Una distinctly uncomfortable, although she had no idea why, before calling the boy back in. Anthony came back in, also dressed in robes. He sat down and started playing his Game Boy again, and managed to finish another game before they arrived at Hogwarts.

Una was not quite sure just what to make of him. There was only one thing that truly stood out and bothered her about that trip to Hogwarts. She had been rather… what was the word… "tongue-tied". Tongue-tied around Anthony Weston, of all people! Never a good thing. He would win all their arguments! They would always have arguments. That was the way it was with the two of them. Perhaps… perhaps for Gabrielle Delacour, he would be nice. But never to her. Una frowned slightly. This was not good at all. She needed to get her sharp tongue back, and fast, or something! 

* * *

Months later, he was still bewildering her. She looked at him strangely as he strode across the Quidditch pitch towards her, tall and lean and confident. It seemed that every time she looked at him, he had grown from the last. He was on the brink of manhood, and it was all very confusing. The Quidditch Final, and the two of them were opposing captains. She in blue... the color of his eyes... and he in green, the color of hers. He stopped in front of her, a rather unreadable smile on his face, and held out a hand for her to shake.

She reached out her own hand, which was nearly swallowed by his, and shook briefly. They took to the air as Owen Caulfield, in the Commentator's box, his voice deeper than before, called out the members of their teams. Una gave an uneasy glance from the Slytherin Keeper to her own Seeker, Gabrielle Delacour, who was perched in the air, riding Harry Potter's old Firebolt that he had given her when she had made the team.

Her unorganized, disjointed thoughts ceased when the whistle blew, and she dashed forward to grab the Quaffle before any opposing Chasers could. She wove and darted in between Slytherin players as she pushed inexorably forward towards him... where he floated, guarding the goals. Now, there was no confusion clouding her eyes or mind. She no longer saw him, the baffling, smirking boy with the affinity for Game Boy and the distaste for Astronomy. He was the Slytherin Keeper, her enemy, and she searched methodically for weakness. 

His eyes left her hands for a scant two seconds to glance at Gabrielle, circling the air high above, and she took ruthless advantage. She scored, and flew away with a slight frown after Darius Chilton of Slytherin had captured the Quaffle on the rebound. It would be... no reflection of her skills... if she scored when Gabrielle distracted him!

The game went on, and in an hour, Ravenclaw was up by ten points, the score precarious at 80:70. And then, Gabrielle dove, and Una looked down from where she was flying back from the Slytherin goal posts after scoring their eighth goal, and saw the elusive Snitch, flittering in the center of the pitch close to the ground. The Slytherin Seeker, fourth year Aaron Montague, brother of former Slytherin chaser Douglas Montague, streaked after Gabrielle in hot pursuit, but the part-veela girl, when she had leveled out from her dive, turned her head slightly to give her rival a disarming smile, still flying forward, and Montague's moment of hesitation was all it took for Gabrielle to streak forward, and capture the Snitch.

Una's exhilaration at winning the Cup lasted for a good half hour, as her joyous team celebrated and changed in the locker rooms. And then, they emerged, back in school clothing, and left to go back to the castle.

And she saw Gabrielle standing across from Anthony Weston in the hallway, grinning ear to ear. Actually... despite the fact that the girl had won the game, and his team had lost, Anthony was grinning as well. He was talking to Gabrielle... in a light, even friendly tone.

"Well... I still say that it is unfair of you to distract my Seeker like that, little vixen. He's going to be all love-struck now. And we both know that you're not going to go with him, at any rate. I still don't see why you're not in Slytherin, you little schemer."

Gabrielle laughed, tinkling, sweet giggles ringing through the air, "Because I can't stand zat Professor 'oo is ze 'Ead of your 'Ouse. But... I did not do anysing illegal when I distracted 'im; _you_ should 'ave made sure zat 'e was not so easy to distract. But... good game anyway."

And Una, feeling distinctly uncomfortable with all of this for some reason, cleared her throat rather loudly. The two of them turned to look at her, and she frowned slightly. Gabrielle gave her another rather piercing look, and Anthony simply gave her a mocking smile and nod before sauntering off. Gabrielle looked from Una, to his retreating form, and back, then walked over to join the older girl.

Together, in a rather odd silence, the two made their way towards Ravenclaw Tower, where there was certainly a party that was just waiting for their arrival to start. Gabrielle seemed deep in thought for a few moments, but she opened her mouth to speak about two paces before Proserpine's portrait.

"Don't be jealous of me, cherie. 'E isn't interested in me like zat, nor I in 'im."

Una looked at the blonde girl, uncomprehendingly. What was she talking about? Jealous? Who? What? Gabrielle grinned and continued, "Ansony. 'E doesn't like me zat way; you don't 'ave to be jealous. We are simply brozer and seester."

Una's eyes widened incredulously, and she gave an indignant sniff, "Jealous? Me? Anthony Weston can go and like whomever he pleases! As if... he's a prat! Hmph! _Supernova,"_ she called out stiffly to the portrait, and strode in, rolling her eyes slightly. Jealous indeed... Wherever in the world did Gabrielle get such a _ridiculous_ idea?!

And behind her, Gabrielle smiled wryly to herself.

~ ~ ~ * * * ~ ~ ~

Review!!


	18. Of Crimson Silk and Conniving Sisters

**NOTES:**

            This chapter has a simple but still authentic old-style Chinese wedding, and finally, Roger and Cho meet face-to-face again. They have a little talk, and reflect upon their lives. Of course, because I love them, there is also Gabrielle, Anthony and Una. And assorted Weasleys. And Quidditch.

**DEDICATION:**

            For Maya and Andy, to both of whom I wish the best, because they're both wonderful, and deserve each other.

**DISCLAIMER:**

            At the rate that this is coming out, don't you think that if I owned Harry Potter, book five would already have been out a year ago?

~          ~          ~          *          *          *          ~          ~          ~

'Til The End

~          ~          ~          *          *          *          ~          ~          ~

            On a sunny morning in May, as fifth year students such as Anthony Weston and Una Markham studied for their quickly-approaching O.W.L.s, Cho Chang had her wand out, and was busily muttering charms, her eyes fixed upon the austere interior of the tent that, until now, she had shared with Jing-Li. The plain walls of the bedroom were slowly but steadily being decorated with valances of red silk, bunched into triumphant rosettes at the corners. Already, on the door, she had carefully put on the newly painted red banner of double happiness in traditional calligraphy, done by one of the Mages who had a knack for the art form, and inside, there was an exquisite bead curtain showing lotus blossoms, for luck and togetherness. The plain, Spartan cot would be transfigured into a carved, larger bed with a dragon and phoenix on the top of the headboard, and luxurious with satin.

            The door opened, and in walked a languidly graceful blonde woman, her hands full of delicate pink sprays. Cho turned around and smiled. The mother of the groom. Narcissa Malfoy had, after a few months of entering life like a butterfly emerging from a cocoon, had become rather close to Cho, who had helped to take care of her through it all. She was gowned in robes of a fresh spring green, and, on this happy day, almost looked girlish as she handed Cho the blossoms. "Is there anything I can help with?"

            Cho looked around. "Here, put the flowers in water. And charm them not to wilt for the whole night. And then... you must help me with the dress."

            Narcissa nodded slowly, and picked up a nearby cup. When Lucius had locked her in, her wand had been broken in two. However, after she had left the hospital, Cho had taken her to Diagon Alley and Ollivander's, and she had purchased a new one. Ten inches, laurel, slender, and with the hair of a stately female unicorn for the core. Now, she transfigured the cup into a blue-and-white porcelain vase, and filled it with water from the nearby jug. The flowers were placed in, and set up opposite the bed. Another wave of the wand, and they would not wilt for another two days.

            Soon, between the two of them, the room was decked out in bright Oriental splendor, and the two women stepped back to survey their handiwork. Narcissa looked around the room with interested eyes the color of delphiniums in bloom. "It's so different... but I like it," she said softly. Cho smiled.

            The door opened again, and Draco's head peered in. "Good Lord! Chang, is this a subliminal way for me to convert to being a Gryffindor?" he gestured the bright splashes of crimson around the room. Cho rolled her eyes slightly, and smirked at him.

            "You're going to have to wear red tonight too. A red sash." Draco's eyebrows shot up to his hairline, and both Cho and his mother laughed slightly. "Oh come off it, Malfoy," Cho scoffed, "you'd wear a pink petticoat if that was what Jing-Li desired, and you know it. But what are you doing here?"

            "Just thought that you might want to know that your grandmother is here. She's talking to Jing-Li right now," Draco winced slightly. "She gave me a rather long and severe admonition..."

            Cho gave an amused chuckled, "You don't speak Chinese, and she doesn't speak English."

            Draco shrugged, "Jing-Li translated. The bit about the being dropped over a cliff by angry crane spirits after they'd pecked my eyes out if I were ever to treat my wife-to-be with disrespect might have been a fabrication on Jing-Li's part, but I think the rest..."

            Cho grinned, "I'll go and see her. Now, you get out."

            "Huh? Why are you kicking me out of here? Spoilsport..."

            "Because if I didn't, the room would be green from floor to ceiling within five minutes. I don't trust you in the least, Malfoy. Now, shoo!" And the bridal chamber was left empty of people until the nighttime.

*          *          *

            By late afternoon, when the final guest arrived, all the preparations had been completed. Unfortunately for the guest, neither his friend nor the Mage leader with whom he was acquainted, were available to greet him immediately as he Apparated into the camp. Rather, Roger Davies found himself staring down at a little boy who was grinning ear-to-ear and holding a rattle-like drum which he would shake frenetically every few minutes.

            "Hello, are you Uncle Roggie?"

            Roger grinned somewhat wryly, "You might say that. Is that what Cho told you my name was?"

            Jack nodded, "She's gone to make Auntie Jing-Jing look pretty. But you can talk to Uncle Draco. He's looking pretty too. Come on!" And "Uncle Roggie" followed the boy deeper into the Mage camp.

            As he walked past the Mage tents, Roger noticed that the usually simple and stark places all had bright red ribbons streaming from the top. At the center of the camp, the Mage Leader's tent was gaily decorated, and tightly sealed shut. And, waiting a little ways off, looking distinctly uncomfortable with a scarlet shoulder sash, stood Draco Malfoy, wearing black silk embroidered with silver dragons. Roger grinned at the younger man and held out a hand for him to shake. "Hello there, Malfoy."

            "Davies," Draco gave a nod, and shook Roger's hand, before scowling down slightly at himself once more, "I look like a bloody Gryffindor."

            Roger laughed somewhat, "Oh, come off it. At least she's not making you wear something _completely _ridiculous. What if it were leather trousers?"

            Draco blanched slightly, "You Ravenclaws have horrible, twisted imaginations; do you know that? Chang was talking about pink petticoats..." he glanced at the tightly closed tent. "Jing-Li and Cho are off in my tent over there, getting ready... well, it'll be Cho's tent from now on, I guess..."

            Roger nodded, "Congratulations, Malfoy. And good luck."

            Draco gave a half-smirk, "Thank you. I'll need it." And then, he grew somewhat serious, "Davies... there's been something that has been on my mind since the day that my father... well... and I'd speculated about it before, as well. Since you're here, I might as well take the opportunity to ask you about it. Heaven forbid I ask _Potter_..." Draco rolled his eyes slightly, and Roger bit back a grin.

            "All right, I'm all ears."

            "Well... now that I'm going to be married... I would very much hate sitting at home while my wife is out playing heroine and putting her life out on the line every day. If she is going to be in danger, I want to be there. You know what I mean?"  Roger nodded slowly, and the blond man continued, "I'm thinking of signing up to join the Aurors' Guild. What do you say? Well, on the stipulations that I will _not_ have to be trained by Potter."

            Roger glanced at Draco in surprise, and saw that the younger man was absolutely serious. In a tone just as serious, "Well... if that is what you want... we'd love to have you. I'll owl you the documents, and tell you when and where to meet so we can arrange for training you."

            "All right." Draco nodded his head, and at that moment, the sun set in the sky, and all at once, the flap to the tent where Jing-Li had been getting ready, with Cho and Narcissa and Madame Chang helping, opened, and at the entrance, several Mages, along with Jack with his drum, started a rousing, festive song with Chinese instruments.

            Draco took one look at the three figures coming towards him, and his heart skipped a beat. Cho, along with his mother, were both clad in simple red Chinese tunics and black trousers. In between them, Jing-Li stood, her slim, wiry form clad in a bright cerise dress with golden phoenixes and poppies so exquisitely and skillfully embroidered that they looked like they'd been painted on. On her strong, slender wrists, she wore jade bracelets, and her usual simple and severe bun had been exchanged for a complicated series of braids and loops that shimmered like onyx in the ethereal light of dusk. Dangling jade earrings peeked out from under the wings of hair at the side of her head, and through the gold-tasseled ruby chiffon veil that covered her head and face, Draco could make out jeweled hairpins. Her eyes were downcast, her expression demure. For a moment, Draco forgot to breathe.

            A moment later, Cho's grandmother came to stand in front of him, and signaled for him to get on his knees. Somewhat confused, he did, and a moment later, Jing-Li was led to kneel beside him.

            "Bow before the Heavens!"

            The two kowtowed towards the twilight sky, and turned.

            "Bow to the people!" 

            The two kowtowed towards the others, gathered in a group and watching them with smiles.

            "Bow to each other!"

            And in the final kowtow, the two faced each other, and lowered their heads.

            And then, Madame Chang ceremoniously handed Draco a rod of pure gold, and Draco used that to gently lift the veil away from Jing-Li's face. And she gazed up at him, her expression somewhat bashful for the first time in her life. Draco smiled. Gryffindor colors or no, no one had ever looked so beautiful to him.

            Cho walked forward, helping Jing-Li to her feet, and Draco stood up as well. A Mage held out a tray with two small cups of sweet wine, and Draco and Jing-Li entwined their arms, drinking wine from each other's cups. 

            And then, Draco and Jing-Li were led into the bridal chamber, with many smiles and good wishes. Finally, Cho walked out after all the others, and Draco and Jing-Li were alone. Draco looked at his blushing bride and smiled. "Well... that was interesting. But, there were no vows."

            Jing-Li gave him a long, appraising look, and softly said something melodious-sounding in Chinese. Draco looked at her questioningly. "What did you just say?"

            Jing-Li gave a somewhat embarrassed shrug, and spoke, "It is a traditional Chinese love vow, since you were wondering about vows. Roughly, it translates to this:

_To Heaven, this I swear,_

_With this man will I remain forever._

_Until the mountains are no longer angular,_

_The rivers dry into desert wastelands,_

_Until there are thunderstorms in the winter_

_And snowfall in the summer,_

_Until the Earth and sky meld into one, formless,_

_I will never part from him that I love."_

            She sighed somewhat. "It sounds better in Chinese." With that, she lifted a hand to her head to pull off her veil, and, one by one, undo her hairpins. Draco quickly put his hand over hers.

            "Let me." He gently slid one hairpin, then another, out of the jetty mass that was her hair. Gradually, bit-by-bit, the black strands fell downward, and she cocked her head sideways to look at Draco, a playful glint in her eyes.

            "Now, you must say a vow back to me. In Chinese," she teased him. Draco frowned.

            "You know that I'm miserable at the language," he pointed out. She didn't look concerned.

            "Try your best, _I_ just spoke a Chinese love vow in English," she retorted archly. Draco removed the final hairpin from her hair, and all of it streamed down past her waist. He gave her a long, deep look, and finally, took her hand gently in his.

            "All right then. _Wo__ Ai Ni, _Jing-Li," he whispered, before bringing her hand to his lips and laying a kiss on the palm. _I love you. _

            Jing-Li smiled up at him. "See, it is not that hard," she said softly, before closing her eyes and letting him kiss her.

*          *          *

            Roger was stretched full-length on the ground in front of Cho's tent, his slender hands clasped behind his head, when Cho reached her tent. She lay down next to him, silent, side-by-side, just content to watch the stars. Cho gave him a sideways glance, taking in the sharp, clear profile, the deep blue eyes gazing into space, and unconsciously, moved her head a little closer, resting her temple against his shoulder. A moment later, he lowered one hand from his head and his fingers, warm and strong, curled around hers. 

            Finally, he broke the silence. "I'm honored and glad that you and Jing-Li invited me today. That wedding was really something."

            By his side, Cho gave a small nod, "Yes... you've probably never seen a traditional Chinese ceremony before, have you?"

            "No, can't say that I have. It's nice though... and it's also nice that... even now, people can find love and happiness. Gives us all some hope, don't you agree?" A small smile grew at the corners of his mouth, and Cho smiled as well.

            "Yes, it does. Well... who knows, perhaps, someday, we will be in their shoes." She blushed somewhat. She had meant that someday, the two of them might marry, but with the way she phrased it, it sounded like she meant that the two of them might marry _each other_. She hadn't meant that... _necessarily_. Oh... everything was different and irrelevant now, anyway. 

            "Perhaps," Roger, next to her, gave her a sidelong glance, watching her face bloom crimson with her last statement. He knew what she had meant by it, and gave her a little wry smile, signifying that he understood. Slowly, he got up to his feet, and offered her a hand, pulling her up as well. 

            Slowly, still hand-in-hand, the two walked to the edge of the Mage camp, to the Apparation point. And then, there they stood for a few long moments, deep in their own thoughts. Finally, Cho stepped forward, and impulsively stood on tiptoe to brush a light kiss on his cheek. "Thanks for coming, Roger."

            "No problem," he said easily. "I'm glad that I got a chance to see you again."

            And then, he turned around, and Disapparated with a pop. Cho stared at the spot where he had stood a moment ago, and she gave a soft sigh. 

"Me too, Roger... me too."

*          *          *

            Gabrielle Delacour smiled in ineffable satisfaction as she folded up the letter that she had just received. Honestly, normal people were so… _dense_ sometimes! It drove her up the wall, but Gabrielle took all of the stupidity with an admirable amount of acceptance and composure. After all, if they were all very clever and discerning, then she, Gabrielle, would not have so much string pulling to do. And then, everything would be much less fun. 

            Three days later, the Delacour-Weasley house was full of people. The twins, Ron, Harry, and Ginny were all over, as was Una, whom Gabrielle had invited to go with her to Diagon Alley in a few days. Now…

            There needed to be Quidditch.

            An "ice-breaker", if you will. And an integral part of her plan. Gabrielle smiled charmingly at everyone assembled. The twins were showing off their latest prank candies to Bill and Ginny, Fleur was fussing over little Juliette, Harry was watching her expectantly, and Anthony and Una were sitting apart, looking warily at each other. "'Ello everyone," she chirped, "It is such a nice day outside, no?"

            Several nods and answers to the affirmative greeted her.

Gabrielle's grin widened, "Let us 'ave a Quidditch game, zen. We can 'ave simplified teams, and _I_ want to get some practice."

            Everyone but Anthony and Una nodded their assent once more. The latter two just looked at her somewhat suspiciously. Gabrielle continued in an airy voice, "Well, 'Arry and I both play Seeker, Ansony and Ginny both play Keeper, zere can be one Beater on each team, and Beel can play Chaser opposite Una. What do you say?"

            Not waiting for any answers, she grinned, "And I 'ave asked Fred and George's girlfriends Angelina and Katie eef I could borrow zeir old brooms, so zere will be enough broomsticks for everyone."

            Bill looked at her, amused, "You've really got this all planned out, haven't you?"

            Gabrielle grinned, "Of course! Well, are you going to do zis or not, everyone?"

            Anthony muttered, "Not like we have a _choice _here…"

*          *          *

            Gabrielle evidently had much more planned as well. Before the game, she had a brief talk with Harry, who gave her a wry, indulgent nod at the end of their conversation before getting hugged enthusiastically, to everyone else's collective amusement. Then, she quickly divided everyone into two teams.

            "Una, Ansony, Fred and I can be on one team, as ze Chaser, Keeper, Beater and Seeker. On ze ozer team, Beel, Ginny, George and 'Arry can play. 'Ow does zat sound?" She looked at everyone with a grin.

            "Are you sure that I shouldn't resign, Gabrielle, and let you take over as captain?" Una asked dryly. Gabrielle merely winked at the older girl and said nothing, grabbing the Firebolt that used to belong to Harry and taking to the air. Shrugging, Una and Anthony took to the air as well, along with a vastly amused Fred. The opposing team took their positions as well, and Ron, playing referee, released the makeshift Quidditch balls (with a Muggle volleyball for a Quaffle, a pair of enchanted baseballs for bludgers and an enchanted golf ball for the Snitch). 

            And as the game began, the tenseness between Anthony and Una disappeared. They were teammates, a Keeper and a Chaser. They worked together, with him passing the Quaffle to her without a thought after blocking shots. And meanwhile, Gabrielle divided her time between smiling triumphantly to herself and searching for the Snitch. Harry had promised… although she was sure that if she were really playing poorly, he would retract that promise. 

            George hit a bludger at Anthony, and, to the Slytherin's immense surprise, Una, used to instinctively protecting her team on the pitch, swerved in front of the bludger's path and, with a slight shove, moving Anthony out of the way. A moment later, Fred was in pursuit of the bludger and had hit it at Bill, who had the Quaffle in possession. Una moved away from Anthony, both rather startled at her action, and the strange, not-exactly-uncomfortable feeling that had coursed through them… for just a moment.

            And then, the game continued. Anthony blocked another shot, and Una caught the Quaffle once again from his hands, racing forward towards the other goal. And then, as the Snitch came into view, and Harry deliberately watched Una score the goal rather than go after it until a moment later, Anthony cheered for the Ravenclaw girl. 

            And a moment later, Harry and Gabrielle were both racing after the Snitch, with Gabrielle in the lead. Perhaps it was Una's imagination, but… was Harry Potter purposefully flying slowly?

            In any case, the small blonde girl caught the golf ball a moment later, and blew a kiss towards the still-indulgently-smiling Harry before she ran to her "team", grinning ear to ear. Una, listening to the other team giving knowing chuckles at Harry, tore her attention back to her Seeker, who was addressing her.

            "Zat was brilliant, no? You two did wonderful togezer, no?" She hugged first Fred, then Una, and then Anthony. "Una is an excellent Chaser, no?"

            Fred, rolling his eyes slightly, obliged, giving the slight Muggleborn witch a hug as well. "_Corking," he said brightly. Una blushed. Gabrielle looked pointedly at Anthony._

            "Don't you sink she did a good job?" she demanded to her surrogate brother. Una would not look at him.

            Anthony gave the brown-haired Ravenclaw girl a brief glance, and inclined his head, "Not bad. I'll have to watch out for her, then." Gabrielle continued to look at him expectantly, and finally, he stepped forward and stopped in front of Una, proffering a hand. Una, rather startled but strangely gratified, put her smaller one in his, and he gave it a warm, albeit brief shake.

            "Good game, Markham, good game."

            Gabrielle smiled.

~          ~                   ~ *          *          *          ~          ~          ~

REVIEW!


	19. Seekers and Stars

**NOTES:**

And we have our current favorite Hogwarts students in this chapter! Anthony and Una, of course. And there is smart, smart little Gabrielle. And much inter-house rivalry (come on... it's a part of life ~.^). Prefect meetings and Quidditch matches... ah well, they'll be _much_ different. But then, Warrington isn't here any more. What can you expect?

**DEDICATION:**

Dedicated to Dave and Serena: Congrats! It's been a year! Best wishes forever and ever!

**DISCLAIMER:**

C. Warrington wearing swim trunks and sunglasses, on a beach towel, is on the top of my Christmas list. Anyone wish to get him for me?

~ ~ ~ * * * ~ ~ ~

The rest of the summer passed fairly quickly. Anthony and Una grew somewhat accustomed to each other's presence in the Delacour-Weasley house, although both sincerely tried to retain the delicate, snarky balance that they'd been used to. It was rather strange and uncomfortable to try to maintain this for the both of them: Anthony was certainly not used to seeing the girl as anything but a rival Quidditch captain and a mouthy Ravenclaw twit any more than Una was used to seeing _him_ as any more than the obnoxious Slytherin git who always called her names. All in all, they were rather quiet around each other, and Gabrielle did most of the talking.

The latter had made Prefect, and at the end of August, everyone made their annual traipse to Diagon Alley for school supplies. Perhaps... or actually probably, it was another of Gabrielle's machinations, but Anthony and Una, being both sixth year students that year, were left at Flourish and Blotts to find their textbooks together. Silently, the two walked down the aisles and picked up _Advanced Charms: Wand-work for the Witty by Hildegarde Bricabrac, Transfiguration: Exploratory Alterations Second Level by Polonius Apgar, Magical Herbs and Fungi from Around The World by Salvia Hortis, _before Anthony split off to find the Advanced Potions text and Una, the Astronomy one. 

The day passed fairly uneventfully until late in the afternoon, when Anthony had been at the Apothecary to buy extra potions ingredients for Advanced Potions, and Una had been invited by sixth year Gryffindor Seeker Michael Arlington to have some ice cream at Florean Fortescue's. She had wanted to wait for the others to finish their shopping, but Michael had insisted (very nicely), and so, she went off after informing Fleur.

Somehow, this made Anthony quite sulky for the rest of the day, and no one could get a word out of him on the entire way home. He simply glowered like a thundercloud at everyone in general and Una in particular.

Una decided, with many an eye-roll, that Slytherins were beyond reason and comprehension.

* * *

A fortnight later at the first Prefect meeting of the year, Anthony was stony-faced as he, Malcolm Baddock, fifth year Bertram Wilson, and female Prefects Priscilla Sheridan of fifth year, Alice Thurston of sixth year, and Wendy Davis of seventh year, arrived at the tapestry of the Prefects' office. The Ravenclaw Prefects were already there, as were the Gryffindor Prefects, and Anthony refused to look at Michael Arlington, Una Markham, or Gabrielle. Instead, he kept his somewhat mutinous face focused on Orla Quirke, the Head Girl, who was looking at them impressively and sternly, and waiting for the Hufflepuff Prefects and Head Boy Owen Caulfield to arrive.

Within minutes, all the Prefects were present, and Orla turned to the tapestry and said, in a clear, authoritative voice and perfect accent, "Meliora Cogito!" _I strive for the best_. The tapestry rolled up, and everyone filed in after the Head Girl.

Prefect Meetings differed slightly every year, despite the fact that they were spent always discussing the same topics, more or less. However, due to the Head Boy and Head Girl of each year, who presided over the meetings, exactly how the topics were discussed, and which ones were focused on more often, differed to a considerable extent.

Everyone took their seats, and Orla launched immediately into her opening statements. Formally, she introduced herself to the others, most of whom knew her very well already, and then, reminded the fifth years of their upcoming O.W.L.s that year, and her fellow seventh years of the N.E.W.T.s. Everyone nodded rather long-sufferingly, and Orla passed out several copies of neatly-written tutoring schedules for the Prefects, having already assigned the fifth year Prefects their sessions based on teacher recommendations. Una, unsurprisingly, found herself tutoring Astronomy along with Gryffindor Prefect Natalie McDonald, on Wednesday nights, right after Anthony and Gabrielle were to tutor Potions.

After tutoring sessions had been worked out and various passwords decided, Head Boy Owen Caulfield handed out Quidditch schedules for the different teams, and as Una, Anthony, Rae Jordan of Gryffindor and Emma Dobbs of Hufflepuff looked over their schedules, Orla busied herself thumbing over a well-worn copy of the seventh year Defense Against the Dark Arts text, and Gabrielle sat back, watching everything calmly and appraisingly. 

Soon, the meeting adjourned, and everyone filed out of the Prefects' office. Michael Arlington stopped Una for a brief moment before she followed Gabrielle and the rest of the Ravenclaw Prefects towards the Ravenclaw Common Room, asking if it would be all right for her to tutor him in Astronomy now and then. Una nodded calmly, and Michael walked away smiling. The sixth year Ravenclaw Prefect was about to walk away herself when a noise behind her startled her, and she turned to see Anthony Weston scowling blackly at her for a moment before turning on his heel and stalking away without a backwards glance.

Una sighed. So much for thinking that perhaps the two of them might get along this year. _Someone_ had obviously shoved his broomstick up his arse. Pity... he wasn't all that bad when he was in a decent mood. And moreover... he had the most beautiful, stunning pale blue eyes... _OKAY! Una Markham! You've OBVIOUSLY gone COMPLETELY daft!_

Shaking her head to clear it of the unruly, alarming thoughts, Una walked back to Ravenclaw Tower, fully bent on sleeping everything off and regaining her sanity the next morning.

* * *

Tutoring sessions started in the next week, and the numerous students who went for help with Potions soon learnt to solicit aid from the part-veela Ravenclaw, and not the dark-haired, scowling Slytherin who seemed to have an uncannily vile temper. Gabrielle soon found herself doing almost all of the actual tutoring, as the students, especially the younger ones from houses other than Slytherin, were more or less terrified of her surrogate brother. She would sigh, mutter in French about the stupidity of boys, and make him grade assignments if he was going to be so uncooperative in all other aspects.

Anthony's scowls invariably grew tenfold at the end of the Potions tutoring sessions, when the Astronomy tutoring sessions began. Perhaps he had something on his mind, or perhaps he, for some unknown reason, felt an intense dislike for Arlington the Gryffindor Seeker, who would come every bloody Wednesday, sometimes so early that he would meet Una Markham in the hall and escort her there like a bloody bootlicking puppy. Anthony did not see the point of this: Natalie McDonald of Arlington's own house also did tutoring: the prat should just go to _her_, and leave Markham bloody well alone. None of these thoughts were ever voiced, but Gabrielle, the little brat, seemed to be able to read his mind anyway. She constantly carried a look too smug for anyone's good.

And so it was, that when the first Quidditch game of the year rolled around, Anthony Weston, Slytherin captain, shook hands briefly with Rae Jordan at the beginning of the match, although his eyes were fixed blazingly and malevolently upon the Gryffindor Seeker, up in the air already, looking down at him with what Anthony fancied to be a superior expression… one that made his blood boil. The bloody Gryffindor _sod_ would get it.

The Quaffle was released, and the game began. Anthony watched in grim satisfaction as his team battled ruthlessly for the Quaffle, and put the first shot past the Gryffindor Keeper. However, Rae Jordan, Chaser and team Captain, caught the Quaffle on the rebound and flew towards him. He narrowed his eyes into ice blue slits, and waited in front of the goal hoops for her approach. He had studied the Gryffindor team's tactics well… and he knew exactly when, where, and at what angle Jordan would shoot. Accordingly and predictably, he knocked the Quaffle away from the goal hoop a moment before it would have soared through, directly into his fellow sixth year, Chaser Darius Chilton's hands. 

Meanwhile, in the stands, Una and Gabrielle watched the game with great interest. Gabrielle was wearing green, in support of Anthony (and saying that had ''Arry still been ze Seeker for Gryffindor' she would be supporting the Lions wholeheartedly), and after much cajoling, had made Una do the same. Una felt rather distinctively out-of-place doing so, a Muggleborn supporting _that_ house, but… well, she supposed that… at least not all of them were that bad. And Anthony… he _was_ a good Quidditch player. And that game that they'd played together over the summer was… very nice.

Thirty minutes later, the score was 50:30 in favor of Slytherin, and all of the sudden, both Montague and Arlington took off, streaking across the field towards the Gryffindor goal posts, and through her Omniculars, Una could see the Snitch flitting at the base of the highest hoop. 

And then, at that moment, Patrick Bole, Slytherin Beater, hit a bludger directly at the back of Arlington's head. Arlington did not notice until his teammates' yells of warning reached him. The Gryffindor Seeker only barely managed to swerve out of the way and thus not get a concussion, but that moment was all that it took for Montague to grab the snitch, and Arlington, distracted and not looking to see where he was going, banged right into the goal post. The Gryffindor Seeker fell to the ground with a cry of pain, with a dislocated shoulder.

The crowd gasped as Dumbledore conjured up a stretcher, and levitated Arlington off the field, and Una's eyes widened slightly. She was too busy watching Arlington get carted away to notice what Gabrielle had seen. For a brief moment, Anthony Weston's face broke out in a fleeting smile as he saw Una Markham stand up, her hand over her mouth as she watched the thrice-damned Gryffindor being levitated off, and a Slytherin green silk shawl the color of her eyes wrapped around her slim shoulders. _Michael Arlington can rot in hell._

* * *

A day later found Una walking towards the hospital wing before dinnertime, several books in hand. Poor Michael… he was still in the hospital so that his shoulder, after the bones were mended, would heal properly. She was going to visit him, and bring him his O.W.L. preparation book in case he wanted to read over some of the information while he was still stuck in the Infirmary. 

Idly wondering if her Transfiguration essay was long enough, she walked down the corridor that led towards the Hospital wing, when a tinkling laugh some distance away stopped her in her tracks. Gabrielle. No one else had that silvery, lilting, accented voice. Well… there was Professor Weasley, but Professor Weasley did not giggle. Curious, Una edged forward slightly.

Gabrielle was leaning against the wall, a smile that commonly drove boys to states of incredible giddiness. Anthony was standing in front of her, one hand propped casually against the column by her head. The two were having some sort of low, earnest conversation, too softly for Una to hear. But… their poses! Anthony and… and _Gabrielle?!_

But that was not right! Gabrielle had _said_ that there was nothing going on between her and Anthony. Not that _she_, Una Markham, cared a whit! The Slytherin git could go and… and snog Gabrielle! After all, the fifth year part-veela was angelically beautiful, and half the school wanted her. And… and they weren't _real_ siblings, so it would be all right! _Nothing_ of it! No big deal at _all!_

Unaware that her eyes were practically spitting green flames, Una whirled around and walked back to Ravenclaw Tower, Michael and his O.W.L. book entirely forgotten. 

* * *

However, the next day, she remembered, and berated herself silently for being such a silly goose. This time consciously looking neither to the left nor right, she focused her entire body on one thing and one thing only: to go to the hospital wing and give Michael his O.W.L. preparation book.

She studiously avoided looking at anyone as she walked slowly from her History of Magic class towards the hospital, and was so successful that she did not notice Anthony Weston at all when she passed him as she walked by the Great Hall. The Slytherin had certainly noticed her though; as she walked within a foot of him, close enough for him to smell her hair. She had an almost dazed look on her face, and Anthony, intrigued, had followed her journey with his eyes. It had only taken him a few seconds to realize where she was headed, and his eyes narrowed. 

He recalled Gabrielle's talk with him the day before. As he should have come to expect by now, Gabrielle was way too observant and straightforward for his comfort. "It is _obvious_ zat you 'ave a _tendre_ for 'er, Ansony. Why don't you tell 'er 'ow you feel?" she had said, and insisted on saying despite his repeated and vehement denials. At last, she had sighed and rolled her eyes exasperatedly.

_"Eef you do not get your act togezer, she will go wis someone else, you know. Zat Arlington from Gryffindor seems vairy interested,"_ she had said before turning around and walking away.

He hated... _HATED_ how that little part-veela chit was always infuriatingly right.

And that night, it was his turn to storm back to his common room in high dudgeon and sulk for the remainder of the night.

* * *

A few days later, Michael Arlington was out of the hospital wing and back in classes. In Potions class, which the sixth year Slytherins and Gryffindors happened to have together, Snape, who seemed to have a very twisted, sadistic sense of humor, partnered him up with Anthony, supposedly so that his star student would be able to make sure that their potion didn't mess up, even though Arlington had missed two class periods and therefore was not familiar with what they were doing.

Both boys worked in stony silence, glaring daggers at each other, opening their mouths only to snap requests such as "Hand over the bloody bee-balm" and "Put in the forsythia roots, idiot". Michael was quite understandably miffed about the bludger that the Slytherin team had pelted at him, and moreover... Una, the poor thing, had been rather down during her visits, and he was fairly sure, just from what he'd seen at past Prefect meetings, the reason why. 

By the time that Potions class was finally over and their rejuvenating draught had been approved of by Snape, both were more or less in a towering rage at each other, though barely a word had been exchanged.

All hell broke loose in the hallway. As soon as he had passed out of the danger zone of the corridor of Snape's classroom, Michael made a rather spiteful comment to Anthony about his team and the dirty tactics that they'd employed to grant them the win of the last Quidditch game.

Anthony sneered, "Isn't the opposing team _supposed _to try to stop the rival Seeker when he's after the Snitch? If you can't handle bludgers, you shouldn't be playing. And besides, it was absolutely your own obvious lack of skill that caused you to slam into the goal post like a demented donkey." Bloody Gryffindor git... what did he think he was, to lecture _him_ about Quidditch? Besides, he got to stay in the hospital attention and revel in the attention of... certain parties. It wasn't as if the consequences of the Quidditch injury were _terrible._

Michael looked at the Slytherin Prefect's sneering face, the lip curled in derision. And why in the world would Una get upset over _this_ prat, he had no idea. He concluded that Anthony must be terrorizing his Astronomy tutor, what with all the scowls and glares he sent at her, and recalled the times in the past when Anthony used to call her horrible names. "Ruddy Slytherin bastard... you lot are all the same. No good'll ever come out of any of _you_."

For a moment, Anthony gave an almost-imperceptible flinch, remembering that day, those years ago, when father had brought the news of 'Risse's death and the circumstances surrounding it. And then, his voice cold and lethal, he spoke to the Gryffindor in a menacing hiss, "Say that again, Arlington... and so help me Merlin you will not have any tongue left to say a word. I'll tear it out and pickle it for Snape."

Michael smirked. Figures, Weston would be one of those little bootlickers cowering behind Snape and getting away with rot because the head of his house was a slimy git. "Smarmy Snape-loving sycophant."

Gryffindor courage had the tendency, at times, to cross the line into Gryffindor reckless stupidity. This seemed to be one of the times, for Arlington suddenly found himself with Anthony's hands around his neck, choking him. The Slytherin wore a positively deadly expression on his face.

But before any further damage could be done, two separate pairs of hands pulled both grappling boys back and away from each other. Michael looked behind him, and saw Una's frowning face. Gabrielle had her hand on Anthony's arm.

"'Onestly, you two are Prefects!" the youngest of the four piped up, sniffing slightly, "I can't _believe_ zis, fighting in ze 'allway... eef you evair do zat again, Ansony..." Gabrielle rolled her eyes, then, with surprising strength, dragged Anthony away from Una and Michael.

Una watched as the blonde girl led Anthony away, and it was all she could do to stop her face from crumpling. Why did Gabrielle have to be so adroit and... _beautiful__?_ Michael turned to her to apologize for the scene in the hallway, but the words died before they even came out when he saw Una's face. Carefully blank, but watching where Anthony and Gabrielle had stood a moment ago with sad, wistful eyes. It took him perhaps half a minute to comprehend that look, and he shook his head slightly. Girls... daft, really. And the git was after the part-veela. Not knowing quite what to say, he gave her a comforting pat on the arm, and slowly walked off, leaving Una to stand there, mutely dazed and slightly heartbroken.

Gabrielle, meanwhile, had dragged Anthony all the way to the Prefects' office, where they'd have some sort of privacy. Anthony watched sullenly as she paced restlessly back and forth in front of him. Why the devil had she pulled him away? Arlington needed to be taught a lesson! Belatedly, he realized that Gabrielle was addressing him. "What?"

"It seems like sings will get vairy extreme eef you don't take action soon, cherie."

Anthony blinked. 

"Oh, you stupid, _stupid_ men! Can't do anything wisout us women... I am saying, you 'ave to do somesing about zis situation wis Una!"

"She seems happy," Anthony ground out. Gabrielle glared at him and let out a string of French words that, from what he'd learnt at the Delacour-Weasley house, were not very pleasant.

"Oui, and _zat_ is why she sits around and sulks in ze common room and gives me strange looks because she sinks zat I am wis you... ze girl is as jealous of _me_ as _you_ are of Arlington... and _don't even SINK of denying it, Ansony Weston, I am not an idiotte!_" Gabrielle retorted. Anthony gaped at her, but she gave him a quelling look and he remained silent, turning this information around in his head.

She resumed her pacing, muttering to herself, and then, grinned wickedly, "You need to be tutored in Astronomy."

"WHAT?!"

"Oh, you 'eard me! You're atrocious at ze subject anyway. What could be better? You and 'er can talk alone in ze evening. Professor Sinistra trusts 'er enough so zat she would not bozer you two in ze Tower, and zen, you can work sings out." Gabrielle said quickly, "And eef you don't... I'll tell Fleur 'oo really keeled zat rosebush dive-bombing on a broomstick."

Anthony glared at her, "Brat."

"Oh, you will sank me for it later," she replied calmly. 

* * *

"How did I get roped into this again?" Una wondered idly to herself as she walked up the steps to the Astronomy Tower, Anthony following close behind. 

He'd approached her after the Prefect meeting that day, asking rather brusquely if she would help him study for an Astronomy exam. Before she knew what she was about, she had agreed, and made an appointment to meet him by the Prefects' office that night at ten. Why she even bothered when he was together with Gabrielle... she had no idea.

Oh well, it was too late and useless to scold herself for being daft. She might as well get this over with, and try not to be uncomfortable around him. At least he was not glaring at her for no apparent reason any more, though he seemed rather preoccupied. Una shrugged. Probably worried about tests or Quidditch games or something.

Within minutes, they were on the observation deck of the Astronomy Tower, and she started pointing out the constellations that they were required to know for the test. Anthony listened with half an ear as he watched her. In the starlight, she came alive, truly alive. Her catlike eyes gleamed, and she moved her hands in the air. She did not have manicured, well-kept hands like a lot of the other girls he knew. Her nails were shortly clipped for Quidditch, the fingers long and slim and strong. But graceful, though not languidly so. It was interesting what one could notice when one was somewhat... daft.

"Here, you can come and take a look at Vega through the telescope," she beckoned him to stand next to her at the window. She had set up the telescope that he'd given her right next to the large one that Professor Sinistra kept there, and was looking through it.

Anthony, wondering mildly if he were drugged and making a mental note to confront Gabrielle about that suspicion (for certainly, no one else was conniving and crazy enough to drug him) later on, walked towards her, and stopped right behind her. He was close enough to her that their robes brushed.

He reached down to focus the telescope, that was really his intention... but a cold, uninteresting piece of machinery held much less interest than the sloppy, quickly-falling-down-from-its-bun brown hair at the nape of her neck. And before he had realized what he was going about, he had buried his fingers in her hair, twirling the soft strands idly, then tugging gently. The bun tumbled down entirely, and Una froze.

"W-what... are you doing?" Una slowly turned around, her eyes wide, and mentally berated herself for how breathy and weak her voice had sounded at that moment.

"I don't know," came the honest answer. And then, a ramble, "I'm not with Gabrielle. And I hope that you're not with Arlington. Because if you are, well... he annoys me. And I don't _want_ to see you two together. It irritates me to no end and..."

"And who do you think you are to decide who I associate with?" Una managed to gain a portion of her spirit, and glared at him somewhat.

"No one. I don't know. But..." he looked down, almost... dare she say it? Embarrassed. But then, he met her eyes again, and his face was adamant, "Just don't become his girl."

He was playing with her hair again. Una bit her lip. All right... keep cool, Markham... "Why would you care?" she asked carefully.

"Because I want you to be _my_ girl."

Her eyes widened, and she stilled. Una felt her cheeks heat up despite the chill of the tower. "Oh..."

"Well?" He was looking at her, his face unreadable, his hand stilled at the side of her face, the fingertips still caressing the wings of her hair.

"You had bloody better never get together with my Seeker," she suddenly whispered fiercely. She gave him a mutinous look through emerald eyes, and Anthony felt a grin tugging at the corner of his lips. "If you ever get together with Gabrielle, I will hate you forever and ever."

"Then if I don't get with her, I should safely assume that you will love me forever and ever," he drawled. She blushed, getting some of her spirit back.

"I never said any such thing, Anthony Weston, you conceit— mph!" Una felt her protest cut off as he cupped her chin with surprisingly gentle hands and touched her lips with his. Her eyes widened for a moment, then fluttered closed as his other hand came to rest upon her waist and draw her closer to him. Not knowing quite what she was doing, but acting entirely upon instinct, she reached up her own hands and twined them around his neck, standing on tiptoe to reach him.

A few moments later found Una backed against the wall, his face buried in her neck, her hands clutching his shoulders for dear life. Her hair was entirely loose and mussed, and his was brushing against the side of her face as he nibbled on her neck for a moment longer, before returning to her lips.

And then, the door opened, and a shrill, outraged shriek of, "Good Lord!" reached their ears.

Anthony slowly pulled away and turned around to see Orla Quirke, the Head Girl, standing at the door, arms akimbo and face outraged.

"HONESTLY! You two, what type of example are you setting for the younger students? You're PREFECTS, and you're snogging in the Astronomy Tower!"

Anthony looked at Una, who was still partially hidden behind him, her face full of shock, her lips dewy, and then turned back to Orla with a grin. "All right then, I will remember only to snog her during Prefect meetings from now on, so that younger students won't have a chance of seeing us," he drawled. Orla threw her hands in the air in frustration, and stomped off.

An enchanted sort of silence seemed to befall the two of them. Una was blushing, and Anthony was silently exulting to himself that she was not with Arlington, nor would she ever be. And then, he looked at her, and his grin widened.

"Oh dear... you've a hickey."

Una's eyes widened to saucer-like size. "W-what? Oh no! Everyone will see it... what if I run into someone on my way back to Ravenclaw?"

Anthony chuckled, and reached into his robe pocket. A moment later, he extracted his scarf, green and silver, and wrapped it carefully around her neck, hiding the evidence.

"There."

"A Slytherin scarf?" Una felt herself beginning to smile.

He nodded firmly, "Indeed. Keep it. If Arlington sees it, he'll know that you're mine," he informed her matter-of-factly.

And Una Markham, for the first time in her life, found herself giggling.

~ ~ ~ * * * ~ ~ ~

Wheee! Review!!


	20. Return to Hogwarts

**NOTES:**

            In this chapter, I WILL show Cho and Roger. Yes. They need more time in the spotlight. Of course, there will be other stuff too. 

**DEDICATION:**

            Dedicated to Kate of the SOBettes, fellow Bronze Snitch shipper, and a great help with plot bunnies! You rock, girl!

**DISCLAIMER:**

            I want them. And no one got them for me for Christmas. *pout*

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'Til The End

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            The cat blended in with the night. Had it not been for the brilliant, jewel-like eyes gleaming in the darkness, it would have been all but invisible. The graveyard was no longer safe. Too many of the circle had perished there, and now, the darkness took place in an old, abandoned house. 

            It was risky, of course. The serpent was still alive, and there was always the chance of being struck, poisoned, killed in a quick, merciless fashion.

            Of course, that was only to be expected.

            The cat was out hunting.

            The sliver of a waning crescent moon sliced through the dark clouds, and the cat's slinky form was visible, silhouetted against the faintly silver tree branch on which she crouched. The window was barred, about a foot away from the cat's nose, but a feline's hearing is very keen.

            All of the sudden, the window was thrown open, and the ugly, scaly head of a giant, venomous snake shot out, missing the cat by scant inches. The feline leapt nimbly and quickly onto another branch, then another, as the snake slithered out in pursuit. Leaping to the ground, the cat changed into a girl in pure black, a kerchief over her face. A wave of her wand, and the snake was enclosed in a block of ice a cubic foot in volume. The girl became a cat once again, and tore off to the surrounding, protective woods, where there would be protection, and she could go home.

            At least she had had a successful hunting mission.

*          *          *

            "That was a close one tonight," Cho, sitting in Jing-Li and Draco's tent, sighed slightly. "That snake almost got me. But I did manage to get the information."

            Jing-Li gave Cho a concerned look, "Are you all right?"

            "Yes. I had to transform back, though... " She gave a sigh. "Thank Heaven I didn't stay in human form for long... I just cast the strongest Freezing charm I knew on the serpent. And then changed back. Let's hope that it dies... cold-blooded beast..." Cho shrugged. "I don't think that it knows who I am... but just in case, it would be best if it died. Then, there would not be any way for You-Know-Who to figure out..."

            Jing-Li nodded, and exchanged a glance with Draco, who was sitting next to her. Cho looked at the blond young man, and gave him a weary smile. "Well... at least, I have some information. I'm going to lie low myself for a while, but... would you be so kind as to pass it to the Aurors, Draco?"

            "No need for pleasantries, Chang," Draco Malfoy waved an elegant, dismissive hand. "Just tell me what you learned."

            Cho nodded solemnly, "You know that the Dark Lord isn't just after Harry, of course."

            "Of course," Draco said with polite sarcasm. "Can't have the world be _too_ Potter-centric, that would be bad."

            Jing-Li gave Draco a rebuking look, and Cho rolled her eyes. "So glad to see that old habits die hard, Malfoy. Anyway... they're also after Dumbledore. They are gathering their forces. They are also trying to recruit more Death Eaters from places that are... well, less vigilant than here. Here, we have Aurors and Unspeakables and Mages all over the place, fighting Dark wizards and witches. However... the Dark Lord is thinking of recruiting more Death Eaters from Durmstrang... it's going to be very hard to stop them. This isn't an active effort. They're simply... well, you know, private correspondence. I have a feeling that it's not going to be possible to stop that."

            Jing-Li let out a string of Chinese curse-words that made Cho wince and Draco raise an eyebrow. The Mage glared at the ground for a few moments, and then looked back at Cho, her face somewhat weary. "All right. And... is there anything else?"

            Cho nodded slowly, "This isn't... certain. I was listening, and then the snake tried to kill me, and I had to leave... but..."

            "But what?" Draco asked quickly. "If it's that awful, you might as well say it so we can all groan about it together."

            "They might try to attack Hogwarts. It's not certain when or how... but it's a possibility."

            "Bugger..." Draco's voice was full of grim disbelief. Cho nodded soberly.

            "My sentiments exactly."

            "And you want me to tell this to Davies and Potter and them?" Draco muttered, "No one ever likes the bringer of bad news..."

            "Be brave, Malfoy," Cho said tiredly. "Just... let them know, all right?"

*          *          *

            "Attack Hogwarts?!" Roger Davies stared at the younger man, stunned. Draco nodded. Davies looked at the former Slytherin Seeker with jaded blue eyes. "And there's no news yet... of when and how this is going to happen."

            Draco shook his head, "Not at the moment."

            Roger nodded slowly, and looked at the pale young man who was training under him. "Well... let's think of this rationally. You say that they're trying to gather up additional forces from Durmstrang and neighboring environs... "

            "Yes, so it seems. Now... based on what I remember from the 'good old days' when my father was all for sending me to that school... " the blond man spat and narrowed his eyes, "they would probably be trying to recruit about ten or so more Death Eaters and their families. Of course, there are various sympathizers to the Dark Side, but reliably... probably about ten or so."

            Roger looked thoughtful as he processed this information, "Right. That means that it would take at least six more months to get these new recruits over and battle-ready. That would take us to... about Halloween. It's possible that we might have new Aurors by then. But... there's also the problem of Hogwarts. We have to do what we can to capture Death Eaters right now..."

            "Davies..." a crisp voice spoke up behind Roger and Draco, and Harry Potter walked forward to join the other two men, "I volunteer to patrol Hogwarts. It would be best if someone is there all the time, and... well, when the time comes, it would be best if one of us were there from the start, wouldn't it?"

            Roger looked at Harry soberly, "Yes, of course... well, we should owl Dumbledore about this. I'm fairly sure that he will not have strenuous objections, but we would need to work it out with him. And of course, we have to give you a plausible reason to be there. It wouldn't do for Dumbledore to announce at dinner one evening, 'Here is Harry Potter, Boy Who Lived and former Gryffindor alumnus. He's here to make sure that when the Dark Lord and all his minions attack, you lot won't be exterminated until the Dark Lord has killed him first'."

            "Obviously," Draco deadpanned, "It would just _look_ bad if he went there without any reason."

            Roger gave the sardonic blond a slightly quelling look, and changed the subject somewhat, "So, who gave you this information?"

            "Chang," Draco said succinctly, "went spying on His Royal Megalomaniac. Nearly got eaten by the snake that said Evil Overlord keeps for a pet, and hopefully froze said serpent into a reptilian icicle. She's lying low for a few days."

            Roger nodded, and for a moment, his eyes were filled with a faraway, almost wistful expression. And then, he turned back to Draco, once again the businesslike Auror that he had acquired after many years. "I see. Well... tell her that I thank her, from the bottom of my heart. Now... I suppose we should continue with training."

*          *          *

            A week after Cho Chang's reconnaissance mission, Harry Potter had been installed as a Quidditch coach at Hogwarts. Madame Hooch had been called away by relatives for an extended, paid leave of absence, and the former Seeker for Gryffindor would substitute for her until further notice.

            Several students who had known him were quite happy to see him back at Hogwarts. Needless to say, the Gryffindors were proud to have one of their most illustrious alumni back in their midst. Harry was welcomed by the Lions with open and enthusiastic arms. The other houses treated him with politeness, if not fondness. Most of the staff members were hospitable and friendly, although Harry would realistically never become cronies with Severus Snape. But at least the Boy Who Lived and his old Potions Master were able to get along without too much hostility.

            Fleur, of course, was exceedingly glad that he was there. She knew full well exactly what Harry was doing at the school, and often, the two would sit together, discussing what was going on in the world. But even happier than Fleur to see Harry was Fleur's sister.

            Gabrielle's favorite place was now officially the Quidditch pitch. 

            There was hardly any weekend or free evening that she passed without visiting the Quidditch pitch to talk to Harry about Seeker strategies and anything else on her mind. Of course, as the Quidditch final between Ravenclaw and Slytherin was coming up, this wasn't too surprising. Coach Potter, who she called "'Arry", _had_ been one of the most brilliant Seekers that Hogwarts had ever seen, and she was simply taking advantage of her prior acquaintance with him, and finding the best way to win the game.

            Well, that was what the rest of the school figured, anyway. Una gave her a few quizzical glances now and then, but in general, the Ravenclaw Quidditch captain was too busy with other things (Slytherin things with dark hair and blue eyes named Anthony Weston) to pay as much notice to Gabrielle's frequent visits and talks with Harry as she might have otherwise. Which was all very well with Gabrielle. 

            She liked Harry a lot; he had saved her life once upon a time, and had been nothing but nice to her since then. When Fleur had married Bill, her parents had allowed her to live with them and go to Hogwarts if she wished, and she had jumped at the opportunity.

            As the little sister of Bill's wife, she had been subjected to lots of warm care and love from the Weasley family. The boys had all taken care of her, each in his own way. Ginny had been like a second big sister to her, and every Christmas, she, like any other Weasley or adopted Weasley child, would receive a bulging package of cakes and pies, as well as a sweater, from Mrs. Weasley. 

            But Harry had always been an especial favorite of hers. He was quiet, somewhat more thoughtful and meditative than most of the rowdy, cheerful family that had opened their hearts to Fleur and herself after the former had married one of their sons. Gabrielle dearly loved romping around with the twins and Ron or talking about anything and everything under the sun with the older boys. But when she wanted to think, when she wanted to have companionship from someone who, with all that he had seen, would never see her as merely a pretty girl, it was always Harry's company that she sought.

            And he had always given her it whenever she'd asked. 

            In truth, Gabrielle was in many ways quite in love with Harry Potter, because, like herself, the world saw him in a certain way, and oftentimes could or would not see beyond the facade. But in this, they understood each other. 

            She could have any boy she wanted, really. As it was, enough of them were willing to do anything they could for her. But this older boy... a young man, really, saw her for herself, and welcomed her into his heart.

            One day, perhaps, he would see her the same way that she saw him. Gabrielle was patient.

*          *          *

            Where the Ravenclaw Seeker was going about her business and keeping her own counsel and company, the Ravenclaw Captain spent an inordinate amount of time "fraternizing with the enemy". 

            Una Markham was still trying to get accustomed to the fact that, in a most incredible, marvelous way, someone who she would never, ever have expected, loved her. 

            She was gradually becoming used to the long, blush-inducing looks that he would give her, sitting at his table at mealtimes, always at a vantage point where, if she looked up and over the bent heads of the other people, their eyes would meet and lock. The school knew that she was spoken for, and when everyone had found out, there had been surprised, disbelieving looks and questions for days. He had gotten tired of the insolent inquiries quite rapidly, and when one nosy Gryffindor third year had asked if they were _really_ together, Quidditch rivals and all, he had stalked up to her in the Great Hall, where she and several other students had been coming out from dinner, and had taken her in his arms and kissed her, long and amorously, in front of everyone. She'd spent the rest of the day with her face burning, but it had been unmistakable that she was "his girl", and the inquiries had stopped.

            She'd taken to sitting next to him at Prefect Meetings, and he would hold her hand in his slender but strong one, caressing the palm once in a while with his thumb, and Head Girl Orla would give them disgruntled, "Pay-Attention-To-The-Business-At-Hand" looks. To which, he would grin disarmingly, if a bit impudently, and bring his other hand up to play with her hair. But every time Orla asked him a question, he would answer promptly, and so, the Head Girl would not be able to voice any real complaints against his lack of attention.

            They'd have their rounds together sometimes, and as they walked the hallways and patrolled for loitering students, they would talk. There would be spirited but good-natured arguments about anything from medieval Wizarding laws to the omnipotent Game Boy. They would frown and glare at each other when they argued, but in the middle of her quick, vociferous speech, he would catch one of her hands as she gesticulated, and press a kiss to the fingertips, and she would pause, and look at him, eyes wide. And the arguments would stop for the time being. 

            And sometimes, she would still take him to the Astronomy Tower and show him the stars. They would find a constellation in the sky, and then he would lie down, with his head in her lap, and she would tell him the story behind it. And whenever she looked down into his face, he would be looking at her, and the intensity of his cerulean gaze would make her blush and shiver despite the warmth of her cheeks. And she would feel beautiful, even though she knew that there were other girls with more even, harmonious features than she had, because she was beautiful to him, and he let her know this without saying a word.

            The Quidditch Final was coming up, and they would be rivals on the pitch. It would be interesting... she'd never played against him in this context before.

*          *          *

            The day of the Quidditch Final dawned bright and sunny, and Una went for an early morning fly. There was a slight wind, which ruffled the hair that she had tied back in a braid. She soared through the air, taking a brief assessment of playing conditions, and then landed after doing two laps around the pitch. 

            She was not alone.

            He was walking up to her, and gave her a somewhat cheeky smile. "Thought you'd be here."

            "Am I becoming predictable now?"

            "Not really... I just stalk you," he'd replied. She rolled her eyes.

            "Should I be afraid?"

            "If you have snog-phobia, you should be very..." he gave her an intense look with hooded eyes, "very afraid."

            She laughed, "Too bad, you're not scaring me, Anthony."

            "Who said anything about it being too bad?" he growled. 

*          *          *

            One hour later found them on the pitch again, this time facing each other, rivals. Caulfield was announcing, "And today's game, Ravenclaw vs. Slytherin, is not only the Quidditch final, but a showdown between Markham and Weston, cutest couple of Hogwarts since Granger and Weasley! Let's hope that they don't distract each other during the game!"

            Una had shot a half-hearted glare at the Head Boy before taking the air. 

            The game was quick and smooth; both she and Anthony had trained their teams intensely through the year. Sometimes, her team would be up ahead, and sometimes his would be. 

            A half-hour after the start of the game, her team was up 40:30, and all of the sudden, Aaron Montague and Gabrielle Delacour were both diving. 

            There was a blinding moment... and then, Slytherin Beater Peony Parkinson pelted a bludger at Gabrielle. 

            Gabrielle swerved out of the way of the bludger, so sharply that she lost control of her broom, and would have been seriously injured...

            ... Had the new Quidditch referee, Harry Potter, not managed to catch her before she hit the ground.

*          *          *

            It seemed like Harry Potter was already saving students' lives, and there had not been any sign of Death Eater attacks yet.

            Montague caught the Snitch, and Slytherin won. 

            And for the first time since the Hufflepuff/Gryffindor game where Cedric Diggory beat Harry Potter to the Snitch due to the presence of Dementors in the field, the victorious captain of a Quidditch match begged for a rematch. But Harry, like Madame Hooch, had conceded that the game had been won fairly. Slytherin was champion. 

            Anthony Weston spent an hour railing at his Beater for nearly killing his sister before Una found him, and dragged him away with her to the hospital wing to see how Gabrielle was doing.

            And when they got there, the sight that met their eyes made them turn back, and realize that, whatever else happened, she would be fine.

            The part-veela girl was lying fast asleep in the bed, and sitting by her bedside, holding her hand gently, was Harry Potter. Una was reminded of that other Ravenclaw/Slytherin game so long ago, when she had been a first-year, and Cho Chang had faced off Carl Warrington. Cho, too, had ended in the hospital... and Roger Davies, no longer a student, had been there for her, just like Harry was for Gabrielle now.

            And so, despite the fact that her team had lost, Una smiled. There was hope, and the world would be all right.

*          *          *

Review!


	21. The Apocalypse

**NOTES:**

            This fic is nearly done! Are you happy? Are you happy that I'm nearly finished babbling? In any case, in this chapter, we shall see a new addition to the Auror Guild. There will be lots of action in here. Are you glad? You should be.

**DEDICATION:**

            This chapter is dedicated to Kat. Who is awesome. And did FANART for this fic. *shrieks* _I am not worthy!!_

**DISCLAIMER:**

            I'm the sadistic Ravenclaw/Slytherin hybrid fanfiction goddess. Operative word being sadistic. You wouldn't want me to own them. Really. They'd suffer. Lots.

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'Til The End

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            Orla Quirke had always wanted to be an Auror.

            Ever since she had been a little girl, and her parents had told her of how, before she was even born, an Auror named Mundungus Fletcher had saved them from a Death Eater attack, she'd thought that the Auror Guild was the finest, most respectable profession one could possibly have.

            The year she started Hogwarts, she had been fascinated by the Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons taught by Mad-Eye Moody, and the stories that Moody told, though they were frightening at best and downright blood-curdling, bone-chillingly terrifying at worse, had captivated her. 

            At the time when she had just started out at Hogwarts, her idol had been Roger Davies. Then a seventh year student and Prefect, Roger had been one of the most respected members of Ravenclaw House. Handsome, intelligent, a Quidditch captain, well-liked by all... she had worshipped him with the adoration of a child towards a deity since the first. And then, she had gotten to know more about him, through the brief talks that she'd had with him her first year, and also his younger friends, who mentioned him frequently. He went to join the Auror Guild too after he'd left Hogwarts.

            Now, she had started training under him. Fresh out of Hogwarts, she was a new applicant to the Guild, but an extremely competent one. Having worked assiduously to attain perfect scores in her N.E.W.T.s in both Defense Against the Dark Arts and Arithmancy, she was a credit to both her house and her school. 

            He was somewhat different from how she'd remembered; the bright, boyishly handsome Prefect with the meditative smile had been replaced by a young man with lines around his sharp blue eyes whose voice was deeper and gruffer than she'd remembered and whose hair was often unkempt and left too long, the fringe falling into his eyes when he was still, only to be blown out of the way when he moved. And he moved like the athlete that he was: with power and certainty and speed in every step. And she found herself looking at him less as a legend, and more as an ideal. Her ideal. Something to strive towards.

            She had paid diligent attention to every lesson that he'd taught her. The curses and countercurses she'd practiced on her own time, over and over again, until she had mastered them all and could perform each and every one at any given time. The physical drills... she'd been no Quidditch player like many of the rest of them; unlike her friend Emma Dobbs, she was not muscular or particularly robust in any way, but she had practiced those, too, as long as she could, until her body was worn out from exhaustion. But she had learnt them as well.

            Roger noticed her eagerness and commended her, though each time he told her that she was doing an excellent job, he would sigh softly, and there would be a sorrowful look in his eyes that she noticed but could not understand. But Orla cherished his compliments like jewels, and thrived on them, out-performing herself each time.

            And every evening, when training was over and she would go home, she would bid him farewell gravely, and he would always muster a smile for her before waving goodbye. And Orla knew that she was doing the right thing with her life. This was exactly where she was supposed to be.

            Thus it went throughout the summer, and in August, Orla Quirke finally became an Auror, like she'd always dreamed to be.

*          *          *

            That August, Harry insisted on accompanying Gabrielle, Anthony, Una and Fleur to Diagon Alley. These were dangerous times, and he wouldn't be able to bear it if anything possibly happened to them. And so, the Auror went on the shopping expedition with the group of students and teacher. 

            Anthony and Una were Head Boy and Head Girl this year, and shopped together, as they had done the last year. Except this time, they talked, and there was no awkwardness. And Gabrielle, unoccupied with matchmaking schemes, looked for her books with a light heart, chatting with Harry about Quidditch.

            The shopping expedition, thankfully for Harry, was uneventful, and when they went home in the afternoon with their books and supplies, they were in somewhat good moods. Somewhat. The calmness was like the lull before a storm.

            That year would be a year of drastic change.

*          *          *

            The term started out calmly enough. Anthony and Una went about their business: classes, Quidditch, Prefect Meetings and rounds. There was a new team captain for Hufflepuff this year: fifth year Seeker Estella Madley, sister of the Hufflepuff Prefect Laura, who had just left school. Also new was the Quidditch Commentator, Gryffindor third year Katherine Fawcett, whose sister had been in Ravenclaw. 

            Harry was doing well as the new Quidditch and flying instructor. The first-years had been a bit in awe of him at first; the Boy Who Lived, teaching them how to operate a broomstick. But things had been going smoothly. Harry spent a good deal of his time on the pitch, flying classes or no. It was a way for him to keep on top of things, and any... incident would certainly occur from outside.

            He and Fleur made rounds twice every day to check the wards guarding the school, looking for any breaches. So far, there had been nothing suspicious, and the wards had remained untouched. But Harry never let his guard down. The information that had been given to them had come straight from the mouth of Voldemort. 

            It would be very soon. Very, very soon. He could feel it.

*          *          *

            In mid-November, Ravenclaw and Slytherin faced off in the first Quidditch game of the season. Una and Anthony shook hands in the center of the pitch, and then took to the air, facing each other with their teams behind them. Harry Potter, green eyes alert, released the bludgers and Snitch, and then threw the Quaffle into the air.

            The game had only barely begun when there was an unnatural-sounding crash, followed by a scream of an animal somewhere in the Forbidden Forest.

            This was wrong. There were no screams... not during the day. Una, who had just entered the scoring area of the Slytherin goals with the Quaffle, gave Anthony a look, and the Slytherin Keeper shot forward on his broomstick towards the Commentator stands. Grabbing the magical megaphone from Fawcett's hands, he bellowed in imperious tones, "_Students, GET INSIDE THE CASTLE! Team, make sure that everyone gets in the castle as fast as possible! NOW!"_

            His team, confused, but having enough experience to know that that tone of voice meant business, started circling the pitch, making sure that no one was left behind as the teachers and older students ushered the younger ones inside. Una nodded towards _her team, and the Ravenclaws joined the Slytherins in ushering the students in._

            Most of the teachers went indoors as well, as the Quidditch teams dismounted and entered the castle at a run. Dumbledore, Snape, McGonagall, and Harry remained outside, and as Harry captured the Quidditch balls, the Transfiguration professor changed the chest into a makeshift fireplace, with the Quidditch equipment as wood. An _Incendio_ and a sprinkling of floo powder, and Roger Davies' face appeared in the flames. Harry merely spoke, "It's time."

            Davies' face disappeared, and the fireplace once again turned to the Quidditch chest, charred and ruined. A Banishing Charm and it was sent to the broom shed. There was a harsh, grating sound, and then a bang. The air filled with the crackle of dark magic, and the wards around the school gave way.

            Anthony and Una, flying side by side, saw the great doors of the castle shut. They were still outside.

            And as the fighters on both sides emerged onto the field, they flew as quickly as they could to the small, open window of the Astronomy Tower.

            This was it. The Apocalypse had arrived.

*          *          *

            Flying faster and harder than they'd ever flown before, Anthony and Una entered the castle through the window of the Astronomy Tower, and jumped off their brooms as soon as they were completely inside. Whipping out their wands, they fired the Charms that they had learnt, and sealed the little window shut behind them. Dropping their broomsticks on the ground, they ran across the room to the door.

            The students were several flights below. They must be kept safe. At any and all costs. Anthony Weston threw the door open and dashed out, pausing for a brief moment as Una ran out as well, right at his heels. Together, they sealed that door, and hand-in-hand, minds filled with one thought, to do anything they could to keep everyone safe, they ran down the first flight of stairs from the Astronomy Tower.

            The steps shook, though Anthony was not sure if it was with their thundering, quick steps, or with the sounds of battle going on outside. There were screams that could penetrate even Hogwarts' walls, and he knew full-well that there would fall blood and tears to stain the field today. Una was panting slightly, her hand clutched tightly in his. Her eyes were wide, and he could see fear in them.

            The ones in the black Death Eater robes out there were out for blood... blood like hers. Blood that he had, once upon a time, scorned as well. But her mouth was set firmly, and her chin was up. She knew as well as he did that they had a duty to fulfill, the same duty, the one that they'd both accepted with the silver badges that they had received over the summer.

            "Come on, let's go... three more flights of stairs," she breathed out. He nodded, and they continued to run down the stairs together, as the screams and curses continued outside.

            Another flight of stairs, and they paused for a brief moment to catch their breaths. Anthony looked at Una, who was leaning slightly against the wall, her brown hair tangled from the wind and damp with sweat from their running. Her face was flushed, the same way as it would be just after he kissed her, but her expression was far more grim and dire. Looking at her, he made a quick, impulsive decision, but one that he was certain that he would never regret.

            She had caught her breath, and was just about to continue on, when Anthony pulled her back, and looked at her with serious eyes. "Wait... Una, just one moment."

            She paused, and looked at him expectantly. And in an instant, he pulled something small and blue from his pocket, something that he'd kept for several years. It glittered even in the dark landing of the stairs, like a cerulean star. It was a sapphire brooch in the shape of a rose, and it had been Charisse's. He'd found it in her room, shortly after her death, and taken it. Everything else had been destroyed.

            Una's breath caught in her throat, but before she could say anything, he spoke, his voice low, hurried, urgent, and she leaned forward to hear it over the sounds of battle still going on all around them.

            "Una... I love you. If we both come out of this alive, marry me someday. I want to spend however much longer we both have to live with you."

            The words were rushed, unpracticed, and gruff. There was no romantic candlelight or glimmering starlight. He was not down on one knee, and the world was in turmoil. The only light came from their eyes, and the only warmth came from their hearts, and their clasped hands. But he was sincere. She blinked back her tears, and a smile broke out over the fear on her face. She nodded, and pinned the brooch to her robes, next to her badge, and he drew her into his arms for a quick, profound kiss, a moment of sweetness in the middle of a blood-splattered world. She kissed him back, feverishly, and, both of them feeling better, they continued down the rest of the stairs together.

            They reached the Great Hall a few minutes later, where the students were huddled together. The first years were grouped, regardless of houses, together in a mass, some crying, clinging to each other. Michael Arlington was holding tightly to the hand of Hope Doyle, his Hufflepuff girlfriend. Gabrielle and the other Prefects were trying to calm down as many students as they could, despite the fact that they, too, were terrified. And with an unspoken agreement, Anthony Weston and Una Markham stationed themselves together at the door, and, along with a white-faced, tight-lipped Fleur Delacour-Weasley, cast one ward after another to encircle them all. They did not know what would happen, but they would do anything they could, to make sure that all of them would be able to walk out of the chaos alive.

*          *          *

            As the students clung to each other inside and prayed for safety, the world outside was being torn apart, as the Dark and the Light engaged in a death-grapple the likes of which had not been seen for centuries. 

            Walden Macnair, most impulsive amongst the Death Eaters, had rushed forward, a maniacal glint in his eyes behind the mask, at Draco Malfoy. The "traitor", gray eyes cold, had faced him, undaunted, and just as Macnair had been about to cast the Killing Curse on the blond man, Jing-Li, with a look of fierce hatred in her dark eyes, had whipped out a dagger from seemingly nowhere, and the silvery blade was a blur, flying forward, until it had buried itself in the Death Eater's chest with a sickening hiss. That had been the first casualty on the field.

            Draco and Jing-Li found themselves fighting back-to-back, protecting themselves and each other as screams of rage and pain filled the air around them. Aurors young and old dueled and battled Death Eaters, and in the very center of the Quidditch pitch, Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore faced the Dark Lord.

            There was a cry, and a thud. Mundungus Fletcher, one of the most experienced of the Aurors, fell to the ground, dead, as Erasmus Parkinson hit him with the Killing Curse. In another part of the field, Orla Quirke saw the hero of her family fall, and her eyes widened in sadness, before she turned back to the task of dueling with Xavier Bulstrode.

            Roger Davies was fighting two Death Eaters at once, and somehow, managing to keep both Demetrius Avery and Edmund Mulciber at bay. Finally, he managed to bring both of them down, and was just about to turn and face Nigel Parkinson when a cry of '_Avada__ Kedavra!_' caused him to turn sharply for an instant. And he watched in a stunned sort of sadness as Severus Snape fell before the wand of Augustus Rookwood. The spy killed by the spy.

            The moment's distraction proved to be a grave mistake.

            Desmond and Regan Lestrange had always been first and foremost amongst the Death Eaters. The two were faithful, cunning, and merciless. They had been responsible for some of the most horrific acts of all the Death Eaters, and had been in Azkaban, lying in ruthless wait for the return of Voldemort to power. Regan Lestrange was a woman of terrible beauty, like a goddess of war, slaying everyone in her path. Now, she smiled cruelly through blood-red lips, and pointed her wand at Roger. "_STUPEFY!_"

            The Death Eater couple smiled heartlessly, and Desmond Lestrange waved his wand. Ropes shot out of seemingly nowhere, and bound Roger tightly. The Lestranges then turned then towards Orla Quirke, who was rushing over towards Roger, wand drawn, intent on setting him free. And before Orla could do anything, the Lestranges both pointed their wands at her.

            _"Imperio!"___

            And as Roger watched with wide, horrified eyes, Regan Lestrange, in a horrifyingly, perversely elegant, graceful movement, drew a cruel, sharp-looking dagger from a sheath on her belt, and handed it to a dazed-looking Orla Quirke.

            The female Death Eater smiled her chilling, sadistic smile once again, and spoke in Orla's ear, but loud enough for Roger to hear.

            "Kill him!"

            Orla walked forward slowly, her face blank and expressionless; the knife, its steel blade gleaming harshly in the sunlight, in her hand.

            And time slowed to a nauseating crawl.

*          *          *

Bwahahahaha!! EVIL cliffhanger, I know... but don't worry, the next chapter will be out in a few days! Review!!


	22. Blood, Wine and Tears

**NOTES:**

            All right, to prevent you people from killing me, here's chapter 22, where the cliffhanger from the last chapter will be resolved. There is more action. And resolutions. And death. Oh yes... and FINALLY, we have real Roger/Cho. YES! The real thing! You people don't have to kill me now. 

**DEDICATION:**

            To Persephone, fellow SOBette, who helps me plot-bunny! And, appreciates finely-written angst as much as I do! *glomp*

**DISCLAIMER:**

            After reading the last chapter and seeing how _evil_ I can be, aren't you _glad_ that I don't own them?

~          ~          ~          *          *          *          ~          ~          ~

'Til The End

~          ~          ~          *          *          *          ~          ~          ~

_"Listen to us... obey. Do not think. Just follow. You have no thoughts. You have no will but ours."_ The voices were soothing, soporific; seductive in her head. It was a dangerous lullaby, a siren's call. So tempting, so easy... but something about the way she was strangely unable to think for herself bothered a part of her.

            The voices grew stronger, a persistent chant in her head, forcibly driving any thoughts that might have tried to spring out... down. "_Kill him! Kill him! Kill him!_"

            There was a knife in her hand. How did it get there?

            Did it matter?

            She brought her other hand up to the knife, and ran her finger along the blade, testing it. Her skin gave way under the sharpness, and she felt a twinge of pain as a drop of blood welled up.

            Sharp. It would kill him in an instant. She would drive it in, and he would be dead. 

            _"Kill him! Kill him! Kill him!"_

            Yes... she would follow the directions... because she had no mind of her own... she would kill him.

            Orla stepped closer, and glazed-over brown eyes met resigned blue ones for a moment. And then, something flashed in her brain.

            Training. "_Remember, Orla. No matter what... NO MATTER WHAT, NEVER give in to the Imperius Curse. Do anything but what you are asked to do._"

            "_Kill him! Kill him! Kill him!"_

_            "Don't give in! NEVER give in!"_

_            "Kill him!"_

_            "NEVER give in!"_

_            "KILL HIM!!"_

_            "NEVER GIVE IN!"_

            _AHHHHHHHHH!!!!!_ The clamoring, contradictory screams in her head... let it be over! _ANYTHING_ but this! She had to do something... and she had to do it now... to shut up the screaming voices... to make it stop. She lifted the knife with her shaking hand... Roger's eyes widened, then shut.

            There was a hissing sound, and a scream of pain. And it was not his.

            The next moment, two voices screaming "_STUPEFY!"_

            The Lestranges were down, and Hermione Granger and Percy Weasley stood behind their felled bodies. Percy freed Roger from his bonds, and then turned back to the battle. There was no more time to spend on him.

            And Orla Quirke was lying on the ground, her eyes wide with shock and pain. One hand was still clutched around the handle of the dagger which protruded from her belly. The blood was seeping through the soiled Auror's robes that she wore. And the red was staining her hand, seeping out.

            Roger dropped like a stone, his face aghast, to his knees by her side. Gingerly, he pulled her hand away from the dagger, and she hissed in pain, more blood oozing out from the wound to stain his hands as well as hers. God... the blood... _her_ blood, he had her blood on his hands...

            Frantically, he pulled out the small vials of healing potion that he carried in his belt, his hands shaking so badly that the potion dripped erratically, some reaching the wound with a hiss, some missing entirely. More blood continued to flow, and she put her bloodstained hand over his, and faintly shook her head. There were beads of sweat on her forehead, matting her brown fringe down. But she was smiling a queer, still smile.

            "It's... no use," she gurgled out hoarsely. He shook his head like a broken rattle.

            "Don't say that, Orla. You were my best... you will be fine..." he muttered feverishly, still trying to pour healing potion onto the knife wound.

            She shook her head again, and even that slight movement caused more blood to gush out, staining their hands even more. Roger dimly heard more curses, screams and spells all around him, but it seemed so... so far away. Orla opened her mouth to speak again, and a thin trail of blood flowed out from the corner of her mouth.

            "You... taught me... never... to give... in. T-thank... you... I...... always wanted to... be... an Auror... " she wheezed out, more blood flowing out from the knife wound and from her mouth with every breath, every word. Roger felt himself shaking all over.

            "No! You're going to be fine... " he insisted, his breath coming in short, burning spurts. "You will survive this! You have to!"

            She shook her head dully and smiled that strange, at-peace smile up at him again. The blood-splashed hand that covered his tightened, and she choked. She managed to get a loose, quivering grip on his hand, and brought the roughened, crimsoned appendage to her equally bloody lips.

            "I... want you to... know... that I love you. I've... always... loved you," she whispered. And then, she kissed the fingers of his hand, tasting the acrid, bitter metallic tang of her own blood on his fingers, and closed her eyes forever.

            And so it was, that Orla Quirke, Auror, aged eighteen, died on the field, doing what she had always wanted to do.

*          *          *

            Roger Davies did not move from where he knelt next to Orla's dead body until all the spells and screams had quieted, except his own internal shriek of torment.

            The battle was over. The war was finished. And left behind were the dead. And the living.

            Harry Potter, who had been fighting Lord Voldemort, emerged, victorious.

            The field that earlier during the day had been a Quidditch pitch for children to watch and play games, was stained with blood and covered with the bodies of the dead. 

            Among the deceased and fallen... the benevolent, seemingly-omniscient wizard who had guided all of them. Albus Dumbledore lay, felled by a Killing Curse from a boy whom he used to teach.

            There had been one anguished note of phoenix song when Dumbledore had fallen, and Voldemort's wand had sprung out of his hand. And then, Harry Potter had uttered the two words that he'd never thought he'd say.

            And Voldemort fell... killed by the same curse that he'd unsuccessfully tried to cast on the one who killed him.

            But Roger was not aware of any of this. He was virtually oblivious to Jing-Li's strong but gentle hands lifting him up from the ground. He did not notice Justin Finch-Fletchley and Douglas Montague conjuring up a stretcher, and putting him upon it. He vaguely saw, but did not perceive, Draco Malfoy's hand hovering over his face, a vial over his lips.

            A dreamless sleep potion, and he knew no more. And he did not see a small, beautiful Chinese woman, walking up to the stretcher, tears falling uncontrollably from her face to drip on his blood-stained hands, washing away the crimson in rivulets.

*          *          *

Tom shook his head with a sigh as the young man with the too-old eyes sat in the corner of the Leaky Cauldron, sipping his Firewhiskey wordlessly, looking and talking to no one. How many ones like him had come here to the Leaky Cauldron nowadays? Tom had lost count. The war... it was over at long last, ended two months ago, and the Dark Lord was no more... but at such an incredible cost! The final battle at Hogwarts... the students had been sent home early, and were still not called back, until the chaos could be all sorted out. Yes, Voldemort was dead. As were Lucius Malfoy, Wormtail, Macnair, Crabbe, Goyle (both Sr. and Jr.) and a whole lot of other Death Eaters. But, also among the dead were Albus Dumbledore, Amos Diggory, Mundungus Fletcher, Alastor Moody and countless others. The young man slowly but steadily drinking himself to unconsciousness in the corner wore the robes of an Auror. His face, had it not been so gaunt and haunted-looking, would have been classically handsome, with an aristocratic profile, deep blue eyes and an almost Byronic elegance. As it was, though... 

            Finally, after he was sufficiently sloshed, the young man got up, unsteadily sliding a handful of coins onto the table, and stumbled towards the stairs. Tom, busy serving another customer, did not notice the slender little woman sitting by the door also put her money on the table, then duck into the washroom. He did not notice the sleek, beautiful black cat with the liquid dark eyes softly padding its way up the stairs after the drunken young man. Not that any such a thing would be unusual. A lot of the ones who stayed at the Leaky Cauldron brought their familiars with them. 

            The young man certainly did not notice the cat following him until he had shut the door to his room and looked down to see its intelligent eyes gazing at him, a soft, strangely comforting purr resonating from its body. 

            He blinked stupidly, then grinned a lopsided grin. "Well, you're a beautiful feline. Who d'you belong to?" He reached out to pet the animal on its head, but because of his drunken state, overbalanced and fell to his knees, his wand tumbling out of a pocket. The cat strode over to the wand, rolling it over with its dainty black paws and causing ice blue sparks to shoot out. For some reason, the young man felt better. More sober and alert. He walked towards his bed in the corner of the room and lay down. The cat followed, leaping gracefully onto the bed and sprawling across the man's stomach, still purring that soothing purr. The man reached out one callused but still strong and graceful hand and stroked the feline's back. The purr grew louder. 

            "Have you come here to comfort me, cat?" he asked. The cat gave him a look with a pair of dark, velvety eyes, eyes that seemed oddly familiar, and nuzzled its head against his side. 

            "Do you have a name?" The young man seemed not to notice or care that he was holding a one-sided conversation with a cat. The cat shook its head, as if it had understood him. "Well, that's a shame. You've the softest, sleekest fur I've ever seen of any cat. I think I'll call you Satin."

            The cat purred in agreement, then moved towards the man's face, nuzzling his neck gently with its silken head. "Satin... if only you could understand... " he said, almost to himself. Satin's furry head lifted up, and cat and human once again found themselves eye to eye. 

            "Meow?" 'What is troubling you?' the cat seemed to ask. The young man sighed. 

            "Guilt. Depression. Regret. Frustration… you name it. And I _know_ I shouldn't be this way, but… Orla Quirke. I was her instructor for Auror training. I… I taught her how to let go of her fears, how to be reckless, a million different curses and countercurses. She was only bloody eighteen years old! Just out of Hogwarts… same house as myself, smart, idealistic young woman wanting to make a difference! She listened to all I taught her, listened only too well! She adored me… I could tell. Kept on finding excuses to talk to me, to learn more, go beyond what was required to gain my notice… " 

            The cat looked at him with such a sympathetic, human-like expression that had he not still been partially drunk, he would have stopped and noticed something amiss immediately. As it was, he simply patted its head and continued. 

            "The day of the final battle, we were at the scene of a Death Eater attack on Hogwarts. The… Lestranges were there… they put the Imperius curse on her… at the same time… so that she would… kill me. She… she walked towards me with a knife in her hand." The young man's voice began to shake somewhat, words husky with the awful remembrance, "But just before she could plunge that knife into my body…she stabbed herself. I... I had taught her... drilled it into her head to do _anything_ but give in to the Imperius Curse! Then… then I remember Percy Weasley and Hermione Granger stunning the two Lestranges… but Orla fell to the ground… blood gushing out of the knife wound... She looked up at me and told me that she loved me… and then, she died! I couldn't save her." The young man was suddenly furious. "I couldn't save her! I couldn't protect her, and most of all, I couldn't love her back the way she loved me, even though she died for me! What type of bloody flaming Auror _am_ I?" 

            The cat mewed plaintively, nuzzling the human's face with its furry head, licking away the tears that fell from his eyes. The young man buried his face in its smooth fur for a moment, then looked up. "You're a strange cat. You can't possibly understand what I'm saying, but you comfort me. It's unfortunate that there aren't more humans like you. People give their blooming false sympathies and condolences, but whisper behind your back. Humans can commit crimes of unspeakable evil without a flinch. We're really a rather abominable species at times." Then, the young man lapsed into silence, stretched out on his bed. The cat cuddled up next to him, and he lay there, stroking its fur, listening to its restful purring, feeling the warmth of its body next to his. Gradually, the young man closed his eyes and fell asleep, one hand still resting on the cat's back.

            The moonlight streaming through the sheer curtains of the room illuminated the sleeping figures on the bed. The young man, his handsome face with a hint of a smile on his lips for the first time since the end of the war, lay with his arms around a fey-like girl with a cloak of black hair. The cat was nowhere to be seen, but both humans had tearstains on their faces. The moon beamed benevolently upon them, and they slept in peace. 

            The young man awoke the next morning at dawn with a horrible hangover. Running to the loo, he collapsed in front of the toilet and retched, feeling the bile surge up his throat and shutting his eyes against the nausea-inducing sunlight and the dizzying spinning of the room. He bent his sweaty dark head, leaning his forehead against the cool wall. This was a miserable existence. This... what a once-proud, brilliant, respected Auror was now reduced to. 

            And then, he dimly heard soft footsteps walking towards him. A slender wand pointed at him, a quiet, vaguely familiar voice muttering a sobering charm. A small, dainty hand pressing a cool cloth against his face, wiping his mouth and forehead. His eyes traveled from the black shoes with the slight heels, up the black robes, slim legs encased in khakis barely visible through the opening, to the petite torso, the cascade of waist-length black hair, all the way up to a naturally beautiful, delicate-featured, Asian face with sad dark eyes and drying tearstains on the cheeks. He _knew_ her... they had been friends. Teammates... housemates... 

            "Cho Chang?!" he whispered incredulously. She nodded, and knelt down in front of him so that they were eye to eye. He stared at her, stupefied. How the world did she get in here? 

            "It's been a while, Roger. We've all gone our way... lost people. I've already lost two of the best friends I had ever had to the Death Eaters," she said softly. She continued to wipe his face with the cool cloth, and he felt refreshed, although still confused. 

            "H-how... how did you... ?" 

            Cho gave him a wry smile, "Transfiguration was always my best subject in school. You forgot... I'm an animagus." There was a small whoosh, and the black cat appeared in front of him. A moment later, it turned back into the girl. 

            "_YOU'RE_ the _CAT?!_" Roger looked at her with wide, saucer-like eyes. "_WHY?!_ Why did you come? Why?"

            He might have been angry, but she was not sure. And she was not afraid. "Because you needed me." She put a slim hand on his shoulder. "I've been coming here for a week, and I've watched you get drunk every night. I wanted to help, to see if I could take away any of your pain. But I saw how you snapped and ordered everyone who talked to you away. You wouldn't have let me approach you as a human. But I needed to help you, somehow." All of the sudden, her eyes filled with tears, and she hastily blinked them away, although one lone tear slid like a drop of diamond down her cheek, "Roger... I have already lost too many to the war. Cedric, killed by Death Eaters at the end of my fifth year... then, Charisse... she died in front of my eyes. They cast the Cruciatus curse upon her, and then killed her, and I was there and I, too, could do _NOTHING!_ Whenever I sleep, I can still hear her screams. But... they've died, and we must live." She gently took one of his hands in both of hers, and said, in a heartbreakingly sincere, pleading voice, "Roger... I won't... I _CAN'T_ lose you too."

            The effects of the sobering charm were now fully into place. Roger Davies was once again alert, and despite his haggard appearance, his mind was clear. For several minutes, or perhaps hours, he stared at the dark-haired angel in front of him. Who had listened to him genuinely, without ulterior motives. Who had warmed him. Followed him despite not knowing what to expect. He was a fully trained Auror, one who knew only too many ways to curse and kill someone, and yet, she had come to him without fear. And it seemed, from the tracks on those soft, faintly flushed cheeks, she had cried with him. Finally, he managed to speak. Once again, he asked her, "Why?"

            She glanced at the ground for a moment, then looked up into his eyes. She leaned over and gently put her hands on his shoulders, then brushed her sweet lips against his bitter ones lightly before pulling away. "No reason really... but I don't think that there really needs to be one." 

            And then, he pulled her into his arms, suddenly craving her warmth, the sweetness of her lips against his, the satiny softness of her hair under his fingers. For an indeterminable time they just crouched there, holding each other, in the loo of a room in the Leaky Cauldron, of all places, breathing each other, feeling each other's heartbeats, filling the emptiness within each other's souls. Finally, Roger pulled away, looking slightly dazed, but the blue eyes had lost some of their haunted look. Cho looked at him, feeling slightly breathless. It was like flying... and diving... like they used to when they were younger, impetuous, carefree children on the Quidditch pitch... 

            "No, there doesn't need to be any reason at all," he murmured, bringing up one hand and tracing the outline of her swollen lips. She smiled slightly, and he smiled back. 

            Maybe, just maybe, there was hope for him yet. 

*          *          *

Enjoy? Review and tell me!!


	23. Whole Again

**NOTES:**

            The war is over. Now, people must rebuild. The restoration of order must occur, although things will not be the same as before. This is the end, folks! 

**DEDICATION:**

            This chapter is dedicated to my girl Sophia, who just got accepted to her first-choice school! Congratulations, and good luck!

**DISCLAIMER:**

            After twenty-some chapters of this, and goodness-knows how many other fics... do you _still_ believe that I own Harry Potter? If that's the case... well, I'm not going to waste any time trying to convince you otherwise. 

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'Til The End

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            In the beginning of March, with the coming of spring and the period of rebirth, Hogwarts re-opened at last.

            There were many changes. Minerva McGonagall now occupied the circular office, as the new Headmistress of the school. Replacing her as Head of Gryffindor House was Harry Potter, who had now permanently taken on the position of Flying Instructor. Teaching Transfiguration was Cho Chang, and still, the students in that class would sometimes find themselves supervised by an intelligent-looking cat perched on the teacher's desk.

            Slytherin House was another issue of concern. With the death of Severus Snape, the school lacked both a Potions Master and a Head of House. For the time being, Draco Malfoy stepped in to fill both the positions. 

            But the former Slytherin Seeker would not be there for long. His wife, her duties in the country now completely fulfilled, wanted to return to China to live. Draco had agreed, and after a long conversation with his wife and his mother, had decided to sell draughty, grandiose Malfoy Manor in favor of a small but elegant villa for summers, and use the rest of the funds gained from the sale of Malfoy Manor to purchase an estate in China. Not too surprisingly, there had been money left over, and with a minimal amount of prodding from his wife, that had been donated to charity to help the families of those that had been most severely affected by the war.

            For now, Draco would take on the Potions Master and Head of Slytherin House positions until the end of the term, and then, with his family (and little Jack, whom he had formally adopted), he would move to China with Jing-Li, to visit back once a year. After Draco had finished the term as temporary Hogwarts faculty, the positions would go to current Head Boy Anthony Weston.

            Quidditch had been cancelled for the rest of the year. The pitch needed to be rebuilt, and, for many of the new staff at Hogwarts, there were too many horrific experiences on that field the day of the final battle for them to wish to be there for long periods of time.

            The rest of the term passed in a slow, tentative manner... each day a bit more certain than the last. It was as if the world were a butterfly breaking out from a cocoon, or a snake sloughing off its old skin for a new one. Gradually, the shadows died away, and no one rushed the process. It would take time, but there would be restoration and healing.

            Everyone had to make new plans. And in this, everyone was alike. And people had each other.

*          *          *

            The shattered, broken pieces of Roger Davies' world were slowly but surely falling into place once again. 

            The bittersweet morning that Cho had taken him out of his self-inflicted purgatory, he left the Leaky Cauldron and the countless bottles of Firewhiskey behind. He had not been able to go back to Hogwarts at the time. Not yet. And so it was, that although Cho had been offered the Transfiguration post, she opted to live at a small flat in Hogsmeade rather than the faculty wing at Hogwarts, until the next school year.

            They had moved into the flat, and together, they had begun the healing process.

            There were nights when he would wake up, bathed in cold sweat, with a scream on his lips and the image of Orla and his bloodstained hands burned into the back of his mind. But she would be right there next to him, with a cool cloth to press to his forehead and delicate, comforting hands to hold onto him. Similarly, there would be nights, though much less frequent, when she would sit up, tears rolling down her cheeks, the memory of a pale, tattered young woman being hit with the Cruciatus curse and then murdered before her very eyes ingrained into her brain. And he would fold her in his arms, and run his callused hands through her long, loose hair. They held each other, and lent their warmth to each other. And thus, both of them were able to recover over time.

            They were not alone. They were not friendless. They were not unloved. This was the most important thing. This was what truly mattered.

            When it was the end of the term at Hogwarts, the words and formalities were not truly necessary. Everything was in their hearts, and they knew how it was between the two of them. Nevertheless, he went to the jewelry store during the day, as she was away at Hogwarts, supervising Transfiguration N.E.W.T.s, and bought a ring. A diamond for strength and fire, and pearls for the tears of both joy and sorrow. He presented it to her that night, and she accepted with a smile, the graceful golden band a perfect fit around her slender finger. They would always have each other, and they knew it. This just made it official.

            And after the seventh years had left Hogwarts, after the term was over, and it was summertime again, they went on a very special trip together, and though it was still poignant, it was no longer painful.

*          *          *

            They stopped by the newest grave first. It had a simple, gray block for a headstone, and on it, the words, "Orla Desdemona Quirke, Aged 18. Died in war, rest in peace." On the simple grave, Roger dropped a handful of freshly-cut blossoms, for her youth, and for friendship and innocence. 

            Cho waited patiently for him, letting him to lay the past behind, and let the dead ghosts go away by their own accord. When he stood and walked back to her, his face was calm, and she knew that he was now free from the misery that had haunted him.

            Then, they went to an old and worn but not forgotten grave. There was a white cross, and the name carved on it was Cedric Diggory. Cho smiled somewhat nostalgically, and placed a spray of white lilies on the grave. Cedric... he had always wanted her to be happy. And she was. She hoped that he, too, was happy now. 

            She turned back to Roger, who was standing one step behind her, and took his hand. "I'm glad we came today," she said softly. "Together."

            He nodded, "So am I. Charisse's, then?"

            She nodded, and they walked deeper and further into the cemetery. And they found that they were not alone.

*          *          *

            As they had resumed Hogwarts, Anthony Weston finally told Una Markham the most painful thoughts that he carried in his head. The memories surrounding his sister's death, and how that had occurred. They had been walking in Hogsmeade together, and he had recounted the horror to her, as they had stared up at the cloudless midnight sky. She had wept with him, and they had kissed each other's tears away. 

            A few months later, after they'd left school, she had invited him to her home, to meet her parents. He had been nervous, of course. Whatever thousands of wonderful things Una was, he did not feel quite at home in her world. But her parents had been kind. Despite the lack of charms and spells going about their home like he would be used to, they had made him feel welcome with their kind, if somewhat garrulous nature. The Markham family, though certainly non-magical, was fairly well-off, and by the end of the day, he had been armed with a veritable arsenal of Muggle paraphernalia to show Arthur the next time he saw him.

            And then, Una had beckoned him to see 'a surprise', and he had followed her outside to a small greenhouse that they'd had on their estate. She led him past the bright, exotic orchids and bird-of-paradise flowers, past the tuberoses and calla lilies, and finally, they reached a sunny corner, and a familiar, heavenly scent hit his nostrils, and his eyes had widened.

            There, looking somewhat out-of-place amongst the other, bigger, flashier specimens, was a single damask rosebush. A cloak of dark green leaves dotted with sweet, cream-colored flowers. She had smiled a somewhat shy, embarrassed smile, as he had stared, dumbfounded. 

            "I liked Charisse my first year," she had said softly, "And... you mentioned that she liked white damask roses. When Mum asked what I wanted for my birthday this year, I told her to order that rosebush for her greenhouse. I planted it after we had gotten out of school, and it started blooming two days ago. I thought you might want them for her grave."

            And he realized once again the thousand reasons that he loved her.

            And so, the next weekend, holding a bouquet of the roses, they Apparated to the graveyard, to pay respects to the girl who had died years ago, so that they and countless others like them could have their lives today.

            Una had seen the others first. "Cho!"

            Cho had looked up from where she had set a small bunch of lilies-of-the-valley at the foot of the marble statue that marked Charisse's grave, and had seen the younger Ravenclaw girl, hand-in-hand with Anthony Weston, approaching.

            "Hello, Una, Anthony," Cho greeted both of them with a small smile. Una had smiled chummily back at her, and Anthony, somewhat less at ease around her than his girlfriend, had nodded quietly.

            "Hello, Professor... Belladonna," he had addressed her, and grinned somewhat. Cho had grinned back, and informed him that he should call her by her given name. They were to be colleagues the next term, and they were no longer Quidditch rivals or anything else of the sort.

            Neither Una nor Anthony had met Roger before, and after introductions had taken place, Anthony had knelt to place the roses at the foot of the now-eroded, gentler-looking marble girl. And something slightly tarnished with time but still bright had sparkled up at him from the grass by the foot of the grave.

            A curious look in his blue eyes, he picked it up. A small badge, silver, engraved with the words "Head Girl", dated the year that he had started Hogwarts. Charisse's Head Girl badge. And it had been there for quite a while, from the looks of it.

            "How'd this get here?" Anthony asked, his voice full of wonder, and not really expecting an answer.

            But he got one. A slight, bittersweet smile on her pretty face, Cho spoke softly, "It was put there by..." she paused, unsure of how exactly to describe the baffling enigma of a man who had placed it there as a final gesture of regard and admiration, "Someone who had respected and esteemed your sister when she was alive. A... friend-of-sorts, I guess."

            Anthony turned to her, a strange, pensive look on his face, "Must have been, I suppose. My sister didn't have many friends, though."

            Cho nodded, "But more people cared about her, I think, than she realized," she said quietly. "Charisse was a great lady... to the very end."

            Then, she smiled at Anthony. The boy she'd met when he was just starting out at Hogwarts was now a young man; she had to look up to him, and he had changed. 

            "Your sister is watching you from Heaven, Anthony. And she is proud of you."

            He smiled back at her, and at that moment, he believed it.

*          *          *

            That meeting had turned to lunch together, and a talk for several hours afterwards. Una, ever the observant one, had noticed the ring on Cho's finger, and had congratulated her former Quidditch captain and the former captain of her former captain. Cho and Roger had thanked her, and after exchanging a glance, the former invited the younger couple to participate in their wedding as maid of honor and best man. Una and Anthony had accepted, and later on, everyone went home, quite gratified indeed that they'd decided to make their excursions that day.

            And after that day, the nightmares ceased to haunt them.

*          *          *

            And that August, before Jing-Li and Draco left for China, before the new term at Hogwarts began, Roger Davies and Cho Chang wed in a quiet ceremony. There were no people there except their family, the Hogwarts staff, and a small group of friends. 

            The wedding was simple. The bride and groom did not feel the need for an extravagant, elaborate ceremony. After they had gone through so much, both apart and together, after the long, rugged paths that they had tread, frills and furbelows seemed rather... superfluous.

            But if the wedding was simple in nature, it was eloquent in meaning. They had always been there for each other. As friends in school, teammates and housemates. Then, after they had both grown up and left the simplistic, utopist world of childhood behind them, though they had their own lives, and had been occupied with the multitude of difficulties that each had had to face, they had also been there for each other. Apart physically, but spiritually together. Through it all, they had both been aware, more or less, that there existed another who understood.

            And Roger, as he watched his bride walk up the simple, short aisle towards him, her beautiful face beaming with love behind the misty veil, smiled. It was enough. 

*          *          *

Harry watched her soaring lazily through the air, a splash of golden hair and white robes against the tile-blue sky. Ephemeral as a wisp of sunlit cloud, and yet eternal. Looking at bright light directly was bad, this he knew, but he found that he could not tear his eyes away. 

There had to be something about women flying.... he remembered his first crush... Cho Chang, that pretty Ravenclaw seeker with the big brown eyes and the sweet smile. He recalled the wistful dreams of his youth... spent wishing for the dark-haired girl's affection. Had he been his younger self, he would likely have been devastated yesterday at the wedding, watching Cho Chang, a resplendent bride with love-light gleaming in her eyes, walk down the aisle towards another man and promise to love him forever. But as it was, he felt nothing but benevolent friendship for Cho, and when he shook Roger Davies' hand and gave him and his bride all the best wishes, he felt no envy, no pain. No... no longer were his dreams filled with dark, dancing almond-shaped eyes and dimples on dusky golden skin. Now... his dreams... 

Harry Potter shook himself. Yes, he freely admitted that part of the reason why he could feel no sense of loss at Cho's marriage to Roger was because of the golden angel flying overhead. She was his angel, though she often joked that _he had been the one to come from up high and save her life. And she was all that an angel should be: wise beyond her years, selfless, beautiful... so heartbreakingly beautiful. And of course, several things that angels perhaps were not, but made it all the more engaging: feisty, spirited, stubborn, childlike and mature by turns. But she was so young... so very, very young. In her last year at school, not yet licensed to Apparate, fresh and youthful as a cherry tree in spring blossom. And he... he was scarred, toughened... he shouldn't even be thinking of her that way. _

A breeze by his side caused him to turn slightly. She had descended from the heights, and now glided slowly to his side, hovering barely a foot above the ground. 

"'Arry, do you want to fly wis me?"

He blinked. She smiled wryly, and pointed a teak wand at the broom shed. "Accio Firebolt!" 

His faithful broom came zooming through the air and straight into his hands. He caught it, then looked unsure of what to do with it. 

She lowered and dismounted, to stand in front of him. Deep blue eyes gazed into green ones for a few long moments, then she put two white hands on his shoulders and said to him softly, "You will nevair know ze beauty of 'Eaven eef you are afraid of falling, mon cher."

Saying so, she brushed a gentle kiss on his lips before taking off again, becoming smaller and smaller as she flew upward. And a moment later, a figure in red, a shock of black hair like a raven taking flight, followed the ascent. He would have his little bit of heaven, after all.

All of them would. To each his own. Things were all right now.

*          *          *

YAY!! It's done!! Epilogue coming soon, and then, that's it folks! The saga endeth! Are you sad to see it go?


	24. Til The End

**NOTES:**

            Short little epilogue! ^_^ Just to wrap things up all nice and happy and stuff. And then, it's off to mourn for a finished fic time for Thalia!

**DEDICATION:**

            To EVERYONE who reviewed, THANK YOU! THANK YOU!! 

**DISCLAIMER:**

            Blah. Insert witty disclaimer here.

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'Til The End

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            He had seen much, much more than his share of scary things in the less than thirty years that he'd lived so far. Any one of the horrors he'd witnessed was enough to drive most people witless with fear. He had heard innumerable screams. But this was by far the most gut-wrenching, and he had never been so panicky in his life.

            And what a time for this, too!

            They had been in the middle of Anthony and Una's wedding when Cho's water broke. It was still three weeks early; she'd decided to be there, saying that she would be fine. She could not let her maid of honor and best man of two years ago down, could she?

            It was just as Anthony and Una had been pronounced man and wife, and were just passing them on their trek down the aisle, hand in hand, when Cho gave a sharp inhalation, and her eyes widened in pain, just as she squeezed Roger's hand.

"It's time," she had whispered, and not only did Roger react, but the bride and groom stopped in their tracks, and Una, impulsively throwing her bouquet at Gabrielle, her maid of honor, rushed over to Cho, and helped her up from her seat.

Anthony turned to the rest of the guests, and, with a perfectly serious face, shouted, "Sorry everyone, but we'll have to leave. One of our most honored guests needs to go to the hospital and become a mother. Feel free to linger and enjoy the refreshments... but we're off."

And with that, the bride and groom, as well as the panicking Roger, had Apparated Cho to the hospital.

            That had been five hours ago. And Cho was still in labor.

            The mediwitch had shooed him out of the delivery room after the first two hours, saying that she would call him when the time came.

            _When_ would the bloody time _come_?!

            Sitting with him in the waiting room were Anthony, Una, Harry, Gabrielle, Draco and Jing-Li (who had come from China for the summer) along with the latter couple's almost-two-year-old (and very self-possessed) daughter Mei-Ya (called Maya when in England). All of them wore looks of varying degrees of nervousness on their faces, but none were pacing like he was. And none of them were quite as pale.

            Draco leaned over with an impish grin and whispered in his wife's ear, "Think we should hit him with a stunning spell?"

            "He'd kill you," Jing-Li muttered back, "and if you think that _I_ would allow you to do such a preposterous thing..." She let the statement hang, but the impertinent former Slytherin quieted for the time being.

            Finally, a young nurse came out of the delivery room, and ran over to where Roger was wearing a hole in the carpet.

            "Mr. Davies!" she called out. "It's time... you can come in now!"

            Roger stopped mid-pace, turned sharply, and pushed past her in a run. The door of the delivery room opened, then slammed shut. The others all blinked.

            "Well..." Draco blinked, "_Someone _is eager..."

            "Oh, shut up, you..." Jing-Li gave him a rebuking look, "If I recall, you were no less so when our daughter was born."

            "That's because we have the most bloody sodding beautiful child in the world," Draco smiled at the little girl, "Aren't you, Maya?"

            "Don't use words like 'bloody' and 'sodding' around her, Draco!" Jing-Li hissed.

            "Their Chinese equivalent, then?"

            "_NO_!"

            About thirty minutes later, the door of the delivery room finally opened again, and an exhausted but jubilant Roger Davies walked out... his arms full.

            "Twins!" Una shouted jubilantly, "How lovely!"

            The crowd trooped with Roger into the delivery room, where Cho reclined on her bed, her face pale and tired but unbelievably happy. "You know... I couldn't decide who gets to be godparents..."

            "So, we're including all of you. For both of them." Roger grinned, "It's unconventional, but I can't think of a better way to do things."

            Una grinned at Cho. "That's all right. Congratulations, by the way."

            "Thanks," Cho smiled back at her. "Sorry for ruining your wedding, though."

            "Oh, that's all right," Anthony spoke up from behind his bride, "Two happy events happening on one day... say, isn't that some Chinese blessing or benediction?"

            "Yes indeed... _shuang__ xi_." Jing-Li piped up, as she accepted one of the babies, a boy, from Roger. She smiled and looked at the child.

            "Dark hair, of course... though it looks rather less straight than yours, Cho. What is his name?"

            "Cedric," Cho spoke immediately. The room's occupants nodded calmly and understandingly.

            "And ze girl?" Gabrielle had taken the other child from Roger's arms, and looked at the inquisitive, tiny face emerging from the pink blanket.

            Cho gave a nostalgic smile, and looked at Una and Anthony, still in wedding robes.

            "Charisse. Charisse Davies."

            The room was silent for a few moments, and then Harry Potter spoke up, his green eyes full of a calm, kind goodwill.

            "Cedric and Charisse Davies... welcome to the world. You two couldn't possibly have had more worthy namesakes."

            Jing-Li and Gabrielle handed the babies back to the new mother, and Cho smiled at all the friendly faces around her. This was a place and day of joy... after all that _all_ of them had gone through... to be here today. It was a wonderful thing.

            "Thanks, all of you, for everything."

            And Roger, her husband, her friend... walked over to her bedside, and as blue eyes met brown, he uttered the sentiment that at that moment, filled everyone's heart.

            "We're all here for each other, Cho. 'Til The End."

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Gahhhhhh!! And it's _over_! I need to go cry now....... REVIEW!


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